


Cas/sie

by haisai_andagii



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, F/M, M/M, Supernatural Big, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nearly eight years of radio silence, Dean Winchester receives a call from his first love, Cassie Robinson. However, with Castiel acting erratically since his return from Purgatory and, with Hell’s Trials underway, Dean must decide between an old flame, a new love and the world. In a determined effort to prove himself, Castiel volunteers to help Cassandra but when he arrives at her home, the threat is greater than any of them realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cas/sie

**Universe:** Semi-Canon Season Eight AU.   Divergence from 8.10 - Torn and Frayed.  Follows Episodes 8.11 to 8.19 loosely through 8.17 - Goodbye Stranger - does not happen until after the fic.

 **Pairings:** Polyamorous relationship.  Dean Winchester/Cassie Robinson, Dean Winchester/Castiel (Destiel), Castiel  & Cassie Robinson Friendship.

 **Synopsis:** After nearly eight years of radio silence, Dean Winchester receives a call from his first love, Cassie Robinson.  However, with Castiel acting erratically since his return from Purgatory and Hell’s Trials underway,  Dean must decide between an old flame, a new love and the world.  In a determined effort to prove himself, Castiel volunteers to help Cassandra but when he arrives at her home, the threat is greater than any of them realized.

 **Warnings:** Violence, Language

 **Rating:** R(ish)

**A/N: Special thanks to BROKENHIGHWAYS (LJ) and walking_tornado (LJ) for being my Betas.  And a HUGE thank you to[dosymedia](http://dosymedia.livejournal.com/) for the wonderful artwork!**

 

 

** Cas/sie **

 

 

 

  


~~~

_“Cas, get him out of here!” Dean shouted as plunged his knife into a demon’s heart.  Castiel pulled Samandiriel into his arms and vanished in a flurry of black feathers.   They re-emerged outside of the abandoned warehouse.  He could still hear the battle going on as he steadily trudged along the inky blacktop toward the Impala._

 

_“Please endure a little longer, Saman,” he whispered gently.  His ears twitched as the sound of footsteps echoed behind them.  Castiel carefully lowered Samandiriel to the ground just as two demons rounded the corner, with the fug of the breath spewing from their snarling mouths.  The shorter of the two reached Castiel first.  The demon lunged wildly at Castiel, hands slashing at his coattails as the angel spun out of his reach and slashed its throat open with his angel blade.   The other demon fell back, watching in horror as the sparks sputtering from his cohort’s neck.  He turned to escape but ran straight into Castiel’s blade.  He sputtered and gasped for breath as the angel wrenched the blade out, wiping it clean as the light faded from the demon’s eyes.  Castiel trotted back to Samandiriel and lifted the angel over his shoulder._

 

_As they reached the car, his brother began to stir.  Castiel propped him up gingerly against the car door as Samandiriel groaned._

 

_“Are you alright, little brother?” he asked him, eyes full of concern as he wiped the angel’s bangs from his sweaty brow._

 

_“C-Castiel?” Samandiriel slurred, leaning into the warmth of his brother’s hand.  Suddenly, his eyes flew open, wide and fearful.  Samandiriel’s hand shot out, grabbing his brother’s wrist._

 

_“Please, Castiel!  We must run!” the angel pleaded, pulling his brother close.  “They are controlling us!”_

 

_“W-what do you mean?” Castiel sputtered in surprise._

 

_“Please, brother... It’s not what it seems!” the younger cried, his voice cracking. “Heaven is not safe!  We’ll be killed!”  No sooner had Samandiriel said this, pain exploded behind Castiel’s right eye.  He grunted, knees falling hard against the damp blacktop.  It was so intense that he could hear ringing; vibrating his entire skull.  He clenched his teeth against the pain but it only made it worse.  Castiel was being overwhelmed, just as he had back in the warehouse when the Winchesters threw themselves (literally) in to Samandiriel’s rescue._

 

_The angel felt as if he would fall apart or explode, his particles scattering across the winds.  Without warning, the corroded lot faded around Castiel as he was seized by the collar of his overcoat and hauled upwards through the heavens.  He flew faster and faster, rushing past stars and suns of galaxies even unknown to him, until he came to an abrupt stop atop something firm but softer than tar and concrete._

 

_The angel groaned painfully, struggling to sit up, blinking furiously against the harsh, bright glare of fluorescent lights.  As Castiel’s eyes adjusted to his new surroundings, he found he was laying on top of a cream colored recliner in the middle of what looked like an office.  There was a desk near the fall wall, littered with papers and empty coffee cups.   The angel swung his legs around and, just as he was about to stand, a pale hand reached out, yoking him up by his tattered blue tied as he felt himself being lifted nose to nose with a hard-faced woman.  He noted her ill-fitting, dismal gray pantsuit as it pulled taut over her form; strands of her straw-colored hair flew from a tight bun that sat piled on high on her head as her mouth drew into a frightful snarl._

 

_“This is a direct order, Castiel!” she roared, her eyes fearsome and wild as she yanked him completely from the chair.  “Samandiriel is a danger to us all!  Kill him!”  Her command cut through his threadbare resistance like a knife._

 

_“Samandiriel?” Castiel managed to choke out as the woman’s grasp grew tighter.  “Save h-him?”  A sharp pain exploded once more.  Absently, he reached up and touched his eyes.  He inhaled sharply at the sight of blood on his shaky fingertips._

 

_“No, kill him! Kill the traitor!” the woman bellowed again. Before Castiel could protest, she flung him backwards.  He fell fast and hard, crashing back onto the earth and into his empty vessel._

 

_His hands felt heavy.  The angel looked down and saw Samandiriel gasping for air as his hand was wrapped around his throat.  In the other, Castiel felt the cool metal of his angel blade.  He was trapped - trapped watching from the recesses of his fevered mind  -  as he heard himself telling his brother that he was safe.  Castiel ignored his brother’s pitiful whimpers and the sound of frantic footsteps as he raised the blade high above his head._

 

_Someone shouted his name; a shot rang out; the angel blade fell, clattering to the ground.  Samandiriel snatched it up and struck.  The shock pulled Castiel back into his own mind, stumbling back and he clutched at the blade embedded to the hilt in his thigh._

 

_“Cas! What the hell were you doing?!”  Dean yelled, holstering his gun as he and Sam bolted towards them._

_“I…I don’t know,” Castiel stammered, watching Sam lift Samandiriel as if he were nothing and place him into the car.   He felt a weight on his shoulders.  Looking up, he caught Dean’s green eyes.  They were filled with worry._

 

_“This looks bad,” he heard Dean murmur.  He felt a hand close over his own; it trembled.  “Are you going to be ok?”   Castiel’s mouth work furiously, fighting to formulate a response but then the high-pitched ringing started again.  He closed his eyes tightly against the barrage of images of a severe-looking woman flickered through his mind; the sound of a drill bit filling his ears._

 

_K...ll ...m_

 

_Kill ..th...m_

 

_Kill them!_

 

_“No!” he shouted.  In desperation, Castiel twisted the knife and the image of the woman scattered._

 

_“Cas!” Dean cried desperately, trying to pry the blade from his iron-grip.  “What the hell are you doing?!”  Forgetting his strength, Castiel pushed the man away, causing Dean to skid  across the length of the parking lot.   Eyes wide in horror, the angel fled, the flaps of his overcoat drowning out Sam and Dean’s calling after him.  The wastelands of Warsaw, Missouri gave way to the waves of a raging sea.   Castiel felt the waves roll over his pliant body as he plunged himself down, down, down; floating soundlessly toward the bottom._

 

_That voice._

 

_Her voice._

 

_The further he sank, the fainter it became.  It grew silent when his body met with the sea floor.  Light could not penetrate at this depth and the angel found relief in the abyss.   Castiel relished as the immense pressure enveloped him as it held him together as his own mind threatened to fall apart._

 

_What were those images?  Who is that woman?  Why did he try to harm his brother?  Why couldn’t he control himself? Maybe, he had never recovered from Sam’s madness. Perhaps, he was still in Hell.  Or, he was still in Purgatory and under the Leviathans’ sway._

 

_His thoughts scattered as a curious flounder nipped at his lapel before moving on to more substantive prey.  In the fathomless dark, he watched the creatures of the deep and their intricate bioluminescent dance.  Castiel would watch; he would rest; he would wait until he regained control and could be with Dean again._

 

 

 

_“I went to see Missouri and I found the truth.”_

_-J. Winchester, 11/16/83_

_Summer, 2006_

 

_The drive to Lawrence was a beautiful one.   Summer winds wafted gently across Kansas wheat fields, bending and bowing gilded stalks into a fitful dance.  A bright sun hung high in an azure sky.  Birds flitted between the flowering trees, seeking as tractors slowly rumbled along the horizon._

 

_Cassandra had no time to appreciate her surroundings.  She had received a call from the psychic, Missouri Mosely, and found herself racing up I-65 in her slippers.  She had not told anyone where she was going.  Not even her mother.  Missouri was the woman who set John Winchester on his journey into the supernatural world when a demon killed his wife.  From then on, he roamed the country with his two sons in tow, slaying anything and everything that went bump in the night.  Or so Dean had said in their post-coital respite during the vengeful spirit incident.  He told her a lot of things and she listened to every word.  Dean told her where to go and now she was racing through Kansas in a beat up sedan like the devil himself was after her over a bit of pillow talk._

 

_“What the hell am I doing? A racist truck kills half my family, and now, I’m looking for gypsy woman in the middle of a cornfield,” she mused darkly before shoving the last few bites of her breakfast sandwich into her smirking mouth.  “God.  My life is beyond messed up.” She shuddered violently as a sharp pain tore through her abdomen.  Cassandra took several deep breaths as it subsided.   Tossing the greasy paper into the passenger seat, she raced along the winding blacktop and away – away from Cape Girardeau, away from Cyrus Dorian, away from the waking nightmare._

 

_The unending walls of wheat and corn turned into sprawling nothingness.  The paved road faded into dirt and gravel.  The GPS announced their arrival as Cassandra pulled alongside a well-kept cottage on overgrown patch of land.  It was robin’s egg blue with white trimming; few planter boxes lined the porch railing; and a flowering apple tree stood in the yard._

 

_“I really am in the middle of nowhere,” Cassandra muttered to herself.  She glanced at the map; she was nothing but a blue dot floating in a mass of gray.  No other houses or farms for miles.  With a sigh, she pulled herself from the car and shook the crumbs from her shirt.  After retrieving her satchel from the back seat, she strolled up the porch steps and knocked on the door._

 

_There was a chirp._

 

_Small but clear._

 

_A thrush fluttered and landed on the railing behind her.  It cocked its head and hopped about- the typical bird behavior.  But Cassandra had to still her trembling hand and let her vial of holy water sink back into the depths of her purse.  As she turned back to the door, she found it was open.  Missouri Mosley stood there, her wizened eyes burrowing into weary ones._

 

_“You know,” the old woman began slowly.  “It’s good that you worry ‘bout your poor mother.  But it’s downright rude to leave her standin’ in a circle of salt in the middle of the rectory common room with nothin’ but a note pinned to her bathrobe…”_

 

_So, she was the real deal._

 

_An honest-to-God psychic._

 

_“Monsignor knows what’s up,” Cassandra replied coolly.  “But how did you-”_

 

_“No point in tellin’ if you know the answer,” she snorted in disbelief. “There comes a point where you should stop playing the fool before you become one.  Check your ‘Lois Lane’ act at the door, Ms. Robinson.”  Missouri waved her with a swipe of her great ringed fingers._

 

_“Sorry for the drive,” she continued once they were inside.  “I had to move ever since those Winchesters rolled back up into my life.  Poor things.”  She clicked her teeth as she shut the door behind her.  “But I am not in the business of getting’ myself killed.  Even for those lovable fools.  Stand here on the carpet for a moment, won’t you.”_

 

_The old woman shuffled away and out of sight and Cassandra took a moment to admire the décor.  She found it to be disappointingly normal.  Missouri had kept it simple: an array of floral patterned wall paper and lace doily accents on every piece of furniture; clean bone china filled a great oak cabinet; and plastic covering her matronly but elegant living room set.  Cassandra was somewhat disappointed.  She expected bead curtains, spiritual crystals, and an overwhelming scent of sandalwood._

 

_“I hate to keep you in the hall but we’ve got to do a few tests,” Missouri cooed as she reemerged dragging an antique traveler’s trunk behind her.  “Let’s get started.  Imma need you to step off the mat.”_

 

_“Excuse me?” Cassandra asked curiously._

 

_“Did I stutter?  Off.”_

 

_Confused, the young woman warily poked at the hardwood floor before stepping on it.  She stood perfectly still as the older woman’s eyes bored into her as if she expected her to combust._

 

_“Now, drink this,” Missouri commanded, seemingly producing a flask from the folds of her great bosom.  With a shrug, Cassandra gulped it down in one go.  She coughed violently causing Missouri’s hand to shoot into her overcoat pocket._

 

_“Is this…salt water?” she inquired, fighting through the taste.  Her stomach roiled in displeasure._

 

_“Touch this,” the psychic ordered, ignoring the woman’s question and rummaged through her trunk.  She pulled out what looked like an old fire poker and held.  Again, Cassandra complied with her increasingly odd request and took hold of it.  After a few seconds of awkward silence, the older woman took it from her and tossed it back into the trunk._

 

_“Lastly, you’re gonna have to cut a finger with these.”  Wiping her mouth, Cassandra looked down to see the old woman holding out several small blades.  There looked like silver, brass and another metal she could not place._

 

_“Are you sure this is necessary?” she asked with trepidation._

 

_“Miss Robinson, you agreed to go through these tests when we spoke earlier this mornin’.  Now, prick your goddamn fingers or I’ll jus’ do it for you.”_

_Three Spongebob band-aids later, Cassandra nursed her finger and her pride as she followed the old woman into the parlor.  She noted a stone bowl full of bones sat in the middle of a mahogany table._

 

_“Sorry for all the crazy but consider these tests yo’ first lesson,” Missouri explained, plopping down into her plush paisley chair and gesturing for her to do the same.  “If you are going to live with the supernatural, you have to expect for nothin’ to be what it is supposed to be.   I had to make sure you were you…or least human.”_

 

_“It’s ok and I brought what you asked,” Cassandra replied as she fished out a bill roll and a vial and placed them both into Missouri’s outstretched hands._

 

_“How on earth did you come by his hair?” she asked, pocketing the money into the folds of her housecoat.  The vial clicked pleasantly against her rings as she examined it._

_“Dean sheds like a dog,” the young woman smirked.  “And he’s somewhat vain.  Noticed a few in one of my old hair brushes.”_

 

_“Really now?” Missouri marveled.  “A smart, beautiful young woman like yourself?  You’re too good for him!”  She sucked her teeth in playful admonishment.  Cassandra shrugged lightly, a small but tight smile pulled at her lips._

 

_“But I know you didn’t come here to talk about Mr. Winchester’s bedside manner,” the old woman continued.  “Bone readings are one of the oldest universal forms of spiritual communication.”  Her ringed fingers slipped beneath the table and, with an audible click, the tabletop gave way to a built in fire pit that roared to life.  It filled the room with an iridescent glow; the purest blue flame burning hotly.  “We have to burn them.  Once the crack from the heat, I’ll be able to tell you what you want to know.  More importantly, I’ll be able to tell you what you need to know.”_

 

_Cassandra watched as the psychic tossed several bones into the flames.  Missouri raised her hands high above her head and began to chant.   After a few minutes, the fire died down to the point where she thought it had extinguished.  Suddenly, the old woman released a deep, otherworldly sound from within her.  It resonated louder and louder until the entire parlor shook violently.   Then, flames shot to the ceiling and filled the room with fire.  Cassandra fell to the floor to shield herself but as the flames overtook her, she realized that she was unharmed._

 

_It slowly faded out until all fell silent.  Cautiously, Cassandra crawled into her seat, her fingers biting into her knees.  She noted there were no scorch marks on the ceiling and that everything had righted itself back into place.  The old woman calmly picked charred and cracked bones from the fire with a pair of tongs like nothing had happened._

_“Let’s see now,” Missouri said casually.  “Dean is dying.”_

 

_“W-what?” Cassandra sputtered._

 

_“Sidelined by a 18-wheeler.  Demon mischief it seems,” the psychic sniffed indifferently._

 

_“But he’ll make it through.  At a price of course. Seems his fool father is going to make a classic Winchester trade.  His soul for Dean’s life.  Ugh.  That family.  First their mother, then John and then Dean further down the line...”_

 

_“H-he’s going to sell his soul?” the young woman stammered.  “How are you so calm about all of this?”_

 

_“Cuz he’s more resilient than you think,” Missouri chided.  “And I’ve seen more crazy than you’ll ever know...hopefully.”  The old woman pulled her shawl tightly around her form and dabbed at the sweat on her brow before continuing, “He’ll meet, face and succumb to death many times.  But, he’ll always be raised and reborn.  God’s got plans for that boy.”  Suddenly, the young woman broke down sobbing.  Missouri leapt to her feet and rushed to her side, pulling her into a tight hug._

_“What is all of this?!” Cassandra cried.  “There are demons, monsters, ghosts… I called him crazy…”_

 

_“Don’t weep for that boy, Cassie,” the psychic said sternly, clasping the woman’s hands in her own.  “You couldn’t save him from what’s coming.  And he can’t help you either...”  She pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket and wiped the younger woman’s face.  “Now, you’ve come here for more than news on your old boyfriend.  You have your own troubles.”_

 

_Cassandra tried to steady herself, her shaky finger gripping the table’s edge tightly.  It was all too much; it was all too much and she was going to faint.  She felt Missouri’s hand squeeze her shoulders before she dashed from the room.  When the old woman returned, she pressed a sorely needed glass of red wine into her hands. “The docs say half a glass a day is alright even as you are.  Heart healthy and all that.”_

 

_As Cassandra drained her glass, Missouri retook her seat and continued, “It’s true that this world has great plans for that boy,” she restated, weathered hands busy clearing the charred remains on the now extinguished pit.  “But it seems that it’s got plans for you too.  You are going to fight - fight hard, fight smart- and I’ll help you.”_

_“W-what in the hell could anyone want with me?” the young woman asked mournfully as she set the empty glass on the table with a clink.  “Hasn’t it taken enough from me?  I just want to be normal again.”_

 

_“We all do.  But normal ain’t happening.   Normal ain’t gonna help you.  Normal ain’t gonna save anyone else,” Missouri spoke softly.  “Now, take up your bones.”_

_As the dizziness subsided, Cassandra pulled herself as straight as she could muster and gingerly plucked a bone from the bowl as the old woman pushed them towards her._

 

_A wishbone, she mused._

 

 _Cassandra threw her bone into the fire._  

 

 

_Winter, 2013_

 

The clock struck three times: the Devil’s Hour.  With a groan, Cassandra pulled herself from the warmth of her makeshift bed on the living room couch and toed an empty handle of gin under a nearby ottoman.  She shuffled, scratching idly at the bandage wrapped around her left hand, into the kitchen to fetch the salt.  Cassandra never believed that such a simple item would save her from the most unfathomable evil.   She wished for a simpler time when all she had to worry about were the evils of mankind.  Their hungers and desires she knew all too well.  But a world full of monsters was a new set of inconsistent, ever-present dangers.

 

Missouri taught her how to live the life without it changing hers (completely).  Salts lines had been concealed in door and window linings.  Devil’s Traps had been sewn into throw rugs and welcome mats.  Enochian warding symbols painted on every wall in the house that could only be seen with a black light.  Anything and everything that could be cast iron was and always was in arms reach.  Holy water in glasses meant for guests.  Her neighbors never even questioned it when Cassandra bought her first shot gun, pellets of rock salt or jugs of cleaning products containing borax.  Everyone in the Cape hunted.  Everyone in the Cape suffered through the same harsh winters.  Everyone enjoyed a clean house.  She was determined to never let what happened to her father happen to her family again.   

 

When everything was secure, Cassandra made her way back to the living room, nearly tripping over a stuffed bunny left carelessly in the hall.  She grumbled, scooping the poor thing up and setting him on a bookshelf before flopped back onto the couch.  Tapped at the warding tattoo above her heart, she pulled a pamphlet from a particularly mountainous pile of papers flanking the side table and flipped through it.   Articles could not write themselves.  Nimble fingers flew across a well-worn keyboard, conjuring a steady rhythm.  The scratch of a pen across her notepad, tepid pots of coffee, and the occasional uninhibited yawn accented this symphony of productiveness as Cassandra worked diligently through the night.  

 

In the middle of reading her ninth police report, her cell phone began to ring.  

 

“CeCe, are you there?” chirped an overly enthusiastic voice when she answered.  Cassandra sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt a migraine developing.  

 

“Yeah, Becky,” she huffed.  Noting the faint slither of gold at the horizon, she added,   “It’s nearly 6 a.m.  You ok?”

 

“Garth wants to know if you’ve gotten those articles in?  Some hunters are heading out to Easton, P.A. to deal with those werewolves that like to snack on Walmart shoppers.”

 

“Yeah, the ‘Recent Changes in Lycanthropic Behavior’ articles are all up on World Wide News and Inquirer.   The ‘How to Tame a Revenant’ are up too.  But tell Garth that I need more material for my ‘Get-to-Know-Your-Gods’ series,” Cassandra replied, flipping absently through the stacks of papers littering her coffee table.  A few clicks on her laptop and the web pages appeared.  She winced at Inquirer’s presentation choice.  

 

“Blue text on a green background. Why?!” she muttered to herself before continuing: “Listen, Becks, we really need to get that database up. These copies Garth sent suck.  My contacts at South Eastern Missouri can barely read them.”

 

“Yeah, he is having a hard time getting all of Singer’s old books scanned,” Becky sighed in return.  “They are so delicate and there is just too much stuff.  Once I’m finished my training here, I’ll head over and give him a hand.”

 

“How’s that going?”

 

“Great!  Nora is the best!  Did you get those hex bags I sent you?  Do they work?”

 

“I did, they do, and,” Cassandra paused for emphasis.  “I also got those unpublished ‘Supernatural’ manuscripts you stole from Shurley’s house.”

 

“I prefer to use the term ‘liberated,” Becky chortled.  “Oh, I have some good news!  The Winchesters are back.”

 

“Becky,” Cassandra sighed wearily, scrubbing at her tired eyes.  The sky began to fade from black to blue.  “We’ve been through this with them a million times.  Are you sure it’s them?”

 

“Oh my God, totes!” she shouted.  “Garth said he ran into them a few weeks ago during a case near you!   Apparently, Dean and his angel boyfriend got sucked into Purgatory when they killed Dick Roman.   And then Sam -my Sam- had been shacking up with some floozy in Kermit, Texas for a year!” Cassandra held the phone away from her ear as Becky struggled to stifle her rage.  The woman might as well have told her that the sky was blue. The entire hunting community was used to the Winchesters dying or disappearing every year.  Hell, Dean died over one hundred times in one day because of a trickster (Or so Missouri said.).  

 

“Are you done?” she asked as Becky’s screams faded into to disgruntled muttering.

 

“Yes, I’m done,” the other woman groused.  “But listen, I know it’s none of my beeswax but maybe, since they are back, you should-“

 

“No,” Cassandra snapped, cutting her off.

 

“Cassie!” her friend protested. “You told me the seizures are getting worse!  It’s clearly supernatural and that is something they definitely can help...”

 

“Help?” Cassandra asked, her tone was cold.   “I don’t need blades and bullets.  I’ll figure it out.”

 

“Whatever,” Becky countered childishly, as she huffed into the phone.  “I know you miss him!  I’ve been to your house and I know your Supernatural novels have been dog-eared to death, especially that sex scene you had in Route 66-”

 

With a frustrated growl, Cassandra hung up in the middle of the woman’s rant.  Cassandra determined to leave the past in the past.  There was no point calling an old boyfriend who had never bothered to contact her either.  Dean had clearly moved on.  But Becky had a point; it had been a long time.  She mulled it in her mind as she carefully scrolled through her lengthy contact list until she found it.

 

There he was - sitting prettily between Cyril and Delores for nearly a decade.  But as the sun’s rays began to peek over the horizon, Cassandra knew now was not the time.  There were deadlines to meet, mouths to feed; lives to save.  And calling Dean after eight years of radio silence was not an option.  No matter what.  She had gotten herself out of plenty of supernatural situations without him.  This would be one more.

 

The clock sounded six times; the sun rising steady over the horizon.  Three more hours until her deadline.   She tossed her phone onto the floor behind her.  No time to call old boyfriends.  Snatching up her laptop, Cassandra revived her symphony of productiveness, her fingers running across her keyboard.   After all, there were deadlines to meet; mouths to feed; lives to save.

 

 

~~~

 

Winter’s touch never came to Whitefish, Montana.  The forest still had its leaves; its inhabitants scurrying about as if hibernation was the last thought on their minds.  Inias stood beneath a leafy canopy of rust and gold, listening to Dean as he explained what happened to Castiel during Samandiriel’s rescue.   The Winchesters drove all night until they reached Rufus’ cabin.  It had been warded against demons and angels alike, and given Castiel’s recent, inexplicably violent behavior, they decided it was their best bet to stay safe.

 

However, that meant they could not bring Samandiriel inside.   Heaven’s most adorable angel (as Dean had affectionately dubbed him) could not be left injured and unprotected.  So, Dean prayed to the only other angel that he “sorta-kinda” knew and hoped he was still alive.  To his surprise, Inias actually appeared.

 

“You were right to call me,” the angel mumbled as he adjusted his burden carefully.  The Winchesters had carefully (and unnecessarily) bandaged his wounds but Samandiriel remained unconscious.  “There are many of us who are too afraid to return home.  Many of my brothers and sisters are hiding.”

 

“And here I thought Cas was doing his best impression of a pod person for shits and giggles,” Dean asked, his sarcasm doing very little to mask his concern.  “What the hell is going on with you guys?”

 

“I can’t say,” Inias replied wearily.  Even for an angel, he looked tired.  His normally pristine suit looked a little threadbare and a fastidious wrinkle embedded in his vessel’s young brow.  “Heaven is still in chaos and whoever currently reigns over our home cannot be trusted.  Please understand that when we leave, you must never contact me or any of my brothers again.”  

 

Dean opened his mouth to protest when he phone began to vibrate in his pocket.  He made an apologetic gesture and checked the caller ID.  

 

_573?_

 

The number was unfamiliar but the area code stuck out in his mind.  While he wanted nothing more than to answer, Dean was more concerned about what was happening with Castiel and his heavenly brethren.  And when he finally decided to let the call go to voicemail, he looked up only to see that the angel had gone, leaving him alone in the woods to blink at the nothingness he left behind.

 

“Fucking angels,” he groused.  Dean had no answers; no leads; and worst of all, no Castiel.  His stomach sank at the thought that the angel’s mind might be crumbling again.

 

“Hey,” Sam called as he jogged up to his side, pulling him out of his reverie.  “Since Samandiriel is safe, I’m gonna make a food run.  Pie?  Burgers?  Shakes?”

 

“Yes, please,” Dean replied absently.  He brushed past Sam, who rolled his eyes, and walked back to the cabin.  As the Impala roared to life and took off, Dean threw himself onto the couch.  What Inias said gnawed at him.  If Heaven was still in chaos after its Civil War, then who could have saved Castiel from Purgatory and for what purpose?  Simply by elimination, Crowley and the Leviathans would have been happy to let the Eve’s children chase tear him apart for all eternity; if either one set him free, they would have killed Castiel on the spot.  

 

Dean sighed, punching a poor throw pillow in frustration.   He was safe.  Sammy was safe.  For now.  But a potentially unstable Castiel running around, this meant he was a danger to himself and everyone he cared for.  

 

 _Benny._  

 

For whatever reason, the vampire came to the forefront of his thoughts.  They had spent time together in Purgatory and Dean owed him his life and his loyalty.  The vampire became his brother in battle and blood as they hacked and slashed their way to freedom from world-in-between.   But with Sam still seething over Martin’s death and Castiel’s mind unraveling again, Dean feared his vampire friend might be in danger.   He peered out of the window, listening and looking for any sign of the Impala before he dialed.

 

“Dean?  You on your way or what, brother?” Benny answered after the first ring. He winced at the bald distress in the vampire’s voice.

 

“Listen, Benny,” Dean began.   “Everything you’ve done for me, I will never forget, but, uh…This is it.”

 

“End of the line?” the vampire echoed wistfully.

 

“Yeah, but only because things are going all pear-shaped,” he explained.  “With Sam, it’s only a matter of time before you get yourself hurt or worse. Castiel is bugging out.  I...I think you would be safer without me...for now.”

 

“I see,” the vampire replied.  “Well... I got a friend over there in Missouri.  Promise to keep my nose clean and maybe, I’ll see you around one of these days, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, man… Adios.  Be safe.”

 

Dean listened until the line went dead, his throat tight; his eyes heavy.  He forced himself onto his feet and retreated into his bedroom, where he grabbed his computer before sinking into his bed.  Dean knew there was no finding Castiel when he did not want to be found, so he did the next logical thing.  Opening the browser, he searched for the location of the mystery caller.  If he could not help his friends, he would definitely try to help this person.  A few strokes of the keyboard and he had his results.

 

573 was Missouri.

 

Cape Girardeau, Missouri.

~~~

 

There was a chirp.  

 

Soft but clear.

 

Cassandra opened a blurry eye as the sun seeped through a crack in the shuttered blinds.  A bird hopped along the sill, tilting its tiny head to-and-fro as she wrest herself from the comfort of her bed.  She reached for night table, hands searching for her phone before she remembered it was still in the living room.  With a groan, Cassandra pulled herself up and crawled out of bed.

 

After checking the salt line, she tapped on the window, sending the bird off into the sky before trundling off to the bathroom.  Her curly mane bounced as she made her way to the bathroom where Cassandra turned on the water and began to undress.  As she tossed her nightclothes into the hamper, Cassandra paused.  She blinked curious at the sight of her phone sitting on the edge of her sink.  

 

“Where’d you come from?” she murmured as she turned on the shower. “Mom, I guess.”  Shrugging it off, Cassandra climbed in.  She gasped at the contact, willing herself to relax under the scalding spray.  

 

Somehow, by the grace of whatever god and a second pot of coffee, she made her deadlines by on-time.  Southeast Missouri was elated with her piece on the Saint Francis Medical Center pharmaceutical embezzlement scheme.  And Garth and the other hunters would be happy to know that the Algonquin’s Maneto could be tamed with a recording of thunderstorms.  As she debated whether or not to write her next piece on a peaceful Potawatomi Deer Women tribe or Proctor & Gamble’s recent cover-up, Cassandra heard a knock.

 

“Cassie!”  Her mother called through the bathroom door.  “It’s nearly 2:30!  I am heading out now and I’ll swing by Jefferson around 3 for you, so don’t worry!“

 

“Thanks!” she shouted back.

 

“One more thing!  Kate called the house!  She wants to meet you at Café & Me, that Thai place on North Sprigg by 4:00!”

 

Thai?  Cassandra mused to herself as she heard her mother walk off.  Fried tofu and bubble tea would make the perfect pick-me-up.

 

~~~

 

“Yes, Garth,” Sam sighed exasperatedly as he pulled several bills from his money clip and handed them to the cashier.  It had been a long drive, but food from McGarry’s Roadhouse was worth every ounce of gas.  He whispered thanks to the waitress who shoved an overstuffed and greasy paper bag into the crook of his arm before heading to the door.  “That does sound like a case.  Dean and I will head up to Michigan as soon as we...huh?”

 

There was a fuss coming from the parking lot outside of the diner.  A swarm of school kids stumbled in, shouting at the manager to call the cops about some weirdo in a dirty trench coat lurking by “cherry car.”  Despite his massive height, Sam found himself fighting through several bewildered fishermen to find Castiel, dripping from head to toe, sitting on the hood of the Impala.

 

“Sam,” he said casually, his voice was gravelly and gruff as ever. “I need to see Dean.”  He was soaked head to toe, kelp draped over the shoulders of his overcoat.  Sam scoffed as a small fish fell from his pant leg and flopped pitifully on the ground.  

 

“Listen, Garth,” he muttered.  “Imma have to call you back later.”

~~~

 

The Winchesters watched warily as the angel toweled his hair dry.  Dean had hung Castiel’s clothes on a makeshift clothesline near the fireplace to dry.  He looked as if he was swimming in Sam’s spare pajamas.

 

“Where in the hell have you been, Cas?” Dean asked gruffly as he pressed a cup of tea into the angel’s hands.  “Sam was worried.”  Castiel felt neither heat nor cold but Dean seemed to think it necessary to dote on him as if he were fully human.  He sniffed at the tea before taking a sip.  

“I was worried?!” Sam snarked.  Then, he muttered, “You were the one pacing the cabin all night, every night.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I was...at the bottom of, uh, what you all know as the Mariana’s Trench,” Castiel rasped in reply, and added, at their bewildered expressions.  “I needed a ‘mental break.’”  

 

“That’s one hell of a vacation spot,” Dean replied, taking the angel’s now empty teacup and placing it in the kitchen sink. “How you feelin’ now?”

 

“Better.”

 

“Well, if you’re back and you’re good, then you’re going back to work as a hunter,” Sam said between bites of his salad.  “I got a call from Garth about some strange activity in Farmington Hills, Michigan.”

 

“Strange how?” his brother asked, pushing his burger platter in front of Castiel when he caught him eying it.   The angel devoured it quickly, juice running down the sides of his smiling mouth.  Dean sighed and dabbed his stubbly chin with napkin.

 

“Strange like ‘dude gets his legs and arms ripped off by stampeding horses in a locked one bedroom apartment’ strange,” Sam continued, watching Castiel lick his own fingers clean.

 

“Yikes,” Dean muttered to himself, and then to Sam he said,  “But we might have a problem.  See, I got a call from Cape Girardeau, Missouri and it’s looking like it could be another case.”

 

“Why does that place sound familiar?” Sam asked, his wide brow wrinkling.

 

“Because that’s where we saved my old girlfriend, Cassandra Robinson, from a racist truck,” Dean replied as he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nature of that case they tried so hard to forget.  

 

“Is she ok?”

 

“I dunno. I tried calling back but I got no answer...”

 

“So, then you want me to head up to Michigan, while you make sure everything is cool in MO?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m not crazy about that, Dean,” Sam said, tossing his fork down onto the table.  “Especially if you don’t know if anything is actually wrong.  And if something is wrong, you’ll be alone.  You need someone on your six.”

 

“I can help,” Castiel spoke up, a fry hanging from his lips.

 

“C’mon!” Dean shot back, ignoring the angel. “You hauled ass through two states when you thought Ameli- Bad example! I’m sorry!” He threw his hands up in surrender as Sam glared daggers at him.

 

“I’ll go to Girardeau!” Castiel shouted.

 

“Cas, I dunno,” Dean began slowly.  “She doesn’t know who you are…”

 

“All the better,” he replied.  “If someone spots a Winchester nearby, she could become a target.  No one can see me unless I want them to.  I will remain invisible and, uh, ‘scope out the situation.’”  Dean threw Sam a look, who then, without hesitation, snatched up his beer and thundered down the steps into the pantry.

 

“She is important you, Dean,” Castiel protest.  “So, she is important to me as well.  Let me do this.”  Dean resolve began to melt as the angel tugged at the edge of his flannel shirt.  

 

“You’re clearly still not ok, Cas,” he said quietly.  “You’re eating and drinking for Christ’s sake... What if you fall apart again? What if you two get hurt, huh?”  

 

“I don’t know what happened to me when we rescuing Samandiriel but I am all right now,” the angel pleaded, his blue eyes fierce with determination.

  

“The key word being ‘now.’”

 

“I can do this, Dean.  I can gain control.”

 

“But you tossed me halfway across the state to do it though, Cas!” Dean snapped, rolling back his right sleeve to show him bandage on his forearm.  

“I know.  I am sorry,” Castiel murmured, brushing his fingers over Dean’s injury and causing him to gasp as his arm began to glow.   The light subsided and the angel carefully unwrapped the bandages, revealing the injury to be fully healed.  “But I know I can help you.  Please let me, Dean...”

 

“Fine,” Dean conceded, examining arm before taking Castiel’s hand into his.  “Kill it, whatever it is and then, get your feathery ass home.  That’s it.  No funny business.  No side trips to Magic Mountain.”  The angel smiled brightly and brought their joined hands to his lips, whispering sweetly in Enochian between kisses.  Dean wanted to suggest other areas that needed such affectionate attention, when Sam stomped back upstairs, ruining their moment.

 

“Are you two done?” he said sourly, brushing his hair from his eyes.  “I really want to watch the game.”

 

 

 

 

_“We’re in Montana, and I think we’re on the trail of a werewolf. That bow-hunting practice is going to come in handy.”_

_-J. Winchester, 1/24/95_

 

Cafe & Me hummed with excited chatter of college kids as they poured in for pad thai and cappuccino.  A  young woman sat in the far corner of the café studying its patrons with a watchful eye, pulling her patchy, threadbare hoodie over her cropped blonde hair.  She drummed her fingers against the glass tabletop, noting the latest fashions of Southeastern University’s student body.  She was once like them but that was months ago when she, Michael, and Brian were innocent.  She smiled at the waitress who pulled her from reverie as she replaced her silverware with wooden chopsticks and a delicious-looking Thai iced tea.  

 

The first sip was magical.  Forget deer hearts, she told herself.  Sugar condensed milk and black tea was a godsend.

 

The chimes above the door tinkled for the umpteenth time, as the young woman looked up and saw a slender black woman enter.  She smiled as her curly mane bounced rhythmically as she casually strolling towards her with two large bags on each shoulder, each overflowing with papers and books.  

 

“About time, Cassie,” she teased as soon as her friend was in earshot.

 

“Kate,” Cassandra greeted with a smile pulling at her lips. They gave each other a quick hug before the she took her seat.  With a relieved sigh, Cassandra tossed her bags into an empty seat.  She cracked her shoulders with an audible pop before she fished out envelope bursting at its seams from her purse.  “That’s your fee for the article.  Letting me study you will be a huge help hunters in the future.”

 

“And how many hunters are comin’ for me now?” Kate groused as she shoved her money into her own bag.  “I hope you also mentioned in your articles that some of us monsters are still...’human.’”

 

“None,” Cassandra said coolly.  She smiled and pointed to Kate’s drink when their waitress passed by and waited until she retreated into the kitchen before continuing.  “And of course I always remind that not every monster is just a monster.  So, you’re safe, Kate.  How are you doing?  How’s the job?”

 

“It’s good,” she replied. “And everyone’s pretty cool at the animal rescue.”  Cassandra smiled at the thought of a werewolf finding homes for dogs.  Kate had shown up in Cape Girardeau a few months ago.  They met when Cassandra had been investigating rumors of a chicken thief targeting local hatcheries.  Normally, such a story would not have caught her attention but given the odd nature of their deaths (The animals’ hearts had been ripped out and nothing else.), she chased after it.  One night, she caught Kate with her fangs in a Rhode Island Red. Cassandra took pity on her and decided to help the werewolf make a new life in town.

 

“Um, I have a friend that needs your help,” Kate continued, sipping at her tea.  “A vamp.  He gave me a ride.  Kept me from feeding when I was hungry.”

 

“And you sure he’s not the current vamp terrorizing the flood wall walkway?”  There was a vampire that has been attacked the few tourists that had stopped by in Cape Girardeau.  Local authorities chalked it up to a few meth-heads but Cassandra knew better.

 

“Benny is a good guy,” the werewolf said resolutely.  “He’s not like that.”

 

“And what does he want?”

 

“What do any of us want when we come to see you or Garth?  Food, a job and a place to live in peace.”  They smiled at the mention of Garth’s name.  He was a goofy but kind-hearted man.  While most hunters were extremely prejudiced (and with good reason in most cases), Garth and Cassandra were more open minded.  

 

“I have a hunter-friend who works as a manager at the Red Cross in Carbondale.  She needs a driver for blood bank deliveries to local hospitals and clinics.  She used to work with a vampire named Lenore a few years ago before she disappeared.  Your friend can’t sample the rare stuff but Benny can have all the O Positive he can drink,” Cassandra explained. “Where is he now?”

 

“Back at my place,” Kate answered.  “I owe you one.  Seriously.”  

 

“My pleasure. But if you really want to make us even, I need you and Benny to catch that vamp.”

 

“Imagine that... Monsters in the ‘City of Roses?” the young woman teased.  “You’d never think anything evil could ever come from here...”

 

“Three words,” Cassandra replied sternly.  “Rush. Fucking. Limbaugh.”

~~~

 

“Fairies?” Castiel croaked incredulously into his cell phone.  He shrank down into his seat as a few of his fellow passengers threw him curious looks.  “They were responsible for hurting this Charlie-woman’s friends?”  The Greyhound bus rolled down I-55 through Missouri, the Mississippi glimmering softly in the pink light of dusk.  Dean was adamant about him riding the bus with his powers recovering so slowly.

 

“I am happy you were able to save her,” the angel said.  “But why does it sound like you are wearing chain mail and face paint?”  He heard Dean cough out an excuse about Kevin Tran on the other line before the connection went dead.  Castiel sighed and turned his attention to the window and the world rushing by.   

 

They pulled into bus depot just as night blanketed the town, the moon low in the sky.  Castiel thanked the driver as he disembarked and headed to the depot.  It was a hub of human activity: children hopping from seat to seat; an old man sat in the corner feeding quarters into a pay TV; a tired-looking janitor was pushing a mop across the linoleum floor that refused to be cleaned.  The angel walked over to a kiosk full of tourist pamphlets.  In attempt to be inconspicuous, Castiel flipped through one about the River Wall Murals while he listened in on emergency frequencies.  The radio waves whined in his ears, some growing stronger in pitch and volume as he filtered through them.  After he had tuned out an amusing infomercial about the latest erectile dysfunction treatment, the police bandwidth came into range:

 

_This is 4525. 10-20, Mural walkway.  We have a 187.  Decapitation.  Requesting ambulance.  Pursued potential 10-66; white male between 5’10 and 6’2”, 220-240, late thirties; white female, blonde hair, between 5’2” and 5’4”, 110 to 130, early to mid-twenties..._

 

Murder and mayhem were common human behavior but a decapitation definitely warranted a look.  People usually did not go around cutting each others' heads off, especially not in sleepy, little university towns.  Castiel quickly sent Dean a text, letting him know that he had arrived safely and found a potential lead.  He pocketed a map of the city and strode away from the depot into the night.

 

~~~

 

The street lights flickered to life as Cassandra returned home.  She kicked her shoes off by the door.  Dropping her overstuffed messenger bag in the living room, she made her way to the kitchen where she saw her mother, Audrey, pulling several plates from the cupboard.

 

“How was your day? ” she asked.

 

“Long,” Cassandra replied, checking the contents of a pot simmering on the stove.  The scent of cumin and saffron filled her nose.  “Everything OK at Jefferson today, mom?”

 

“Yes -well, that is - until the ride home,” Audrey began, her voice had slight tremor to it.  “Just a minor fit but everything is OK...”

 

“Mom,” Cassandra said with a measured tone.  “Why didn’t you let me know?  Why didn’t you call?”

 

“Every time we ask the doctors, they say it’s nothing, Cassie,” she said, setting the plates down roughly.

 

“Are you serious?!  These fits aren’t nothing!” Cassandra shouted, her voice filling the kitchen.  With a huff, she raised her hand.  The tips of her fingers and the heels of her palm were scarred - peeling, puffy and red - but clearly healing from a severe burn. “They may not hurt the person they are happening to, but to the rest of us, this is what we get when get too close!  How can you ask me to stop when we’re nowhere near solving this damn thing?!

 

“That’s my point,” her mother returned quietly.  “You’re barely eating, you drink like a fish... And when was the last time you got a full nights sleep, Cassie?  You’re going to run yourself into the ground working like that.”

 

Cassandra opened her mouth to answer when they heard several quick wraps at the kitchen’s back door.  Kate’s tow-colored head was framed in the window as she waved at them before scurrying out of view.

 

“I’ll be back in a minute but this,” she snapped. “Is not over.”  Cassandra snatched her machete from a nearby kitchen drawer and stomped out, slamming the door as hard as she could behind her.  She muttered angrily to herself.   Her throat was tight and sore as she dabbed the corner of her eyes with her jacket’s sleeve.   Deadline or not, Cassandra needed a drink.  A strong one.  Something with tequila.  Or maybe that entire bottle of Prosecco from last year’s Christmas party.

 

She wiped her tears and stepped inside.

~~~

 

Castiel watched the police scour the riverbank for evidence.  He took note of the headless corpse half hidden by the reeds along the river and the dark pool of blood surrounding it.  He breathed deeply, taking in the scent - vampire’s blood.

 

“What the hell…?” petite woman in HAZMAT coveralls muttered to herself.  She had been digging in the dirt since Castiel had arrived.  The woman placed something into a clear plastic bag before she scurried over to the commanding officer.

 

“John, take a look at this!” she called, slowing to a stop in front of an officer.  “The head is nowhere to be found but we managed to find this,” she said, holding up a clear plastic bag to the officer’s eye-level.  Castiel looked.  It was a vampire’s fang.

 

“What in the hell is that thing?” the officer asked, scratching his head in confusion.  “The world is all kinds of fucking crazy these days.”

 

“We’re not sure but we found it near the body.  The markings on the neck are clearly from a large blade - machete, most likely.  But this tooth- it’s clearly not human and it can’t have from any animal I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Well, keep up the good work, Susan.  We’ll catch these sick bastards yet.”  ‘Susan’ nodded before shuffling off to record her findings.  As the police continued their work, Castiel set out on his.  Gathering his still-tender grace, he rose up high above the town until it was nothing more than a grid of lights.

 

So, the victim was a vampire, Castiel thought to himself.  Now, he had to search for its killers, or rather, the hunters that took him down.  The angel closed his eyes as let sounds of the city wash over him once more.  He slowly filtered out the distractions until he found what he was looking for: hurried footfalls, gasping breath.   Castiel turned to the north, eyes narrowing in on a shadowy pair running through the streets in a suburban neighborhood.  He vanished and reappeared above them, floating along after them as they skirting streetlights and jumped fences with expert speed.  He noticed the larger of the two carried a plastic garbage bag.  A scent from the bag was strong and copper-rich that matched the blood at the floodwall.

 

Castiel continued to watch the figures from the clouds the two began to slow when they reached their destination.  It was a fairly normal looking house at the end of a quiet, dead-end street.  They hopped its hedges and ran through the yard.  The smaller figure went stealthily along the back of the house.  When it reached the back door, it rapped three times before waving at its inhabitants and gesturing to the corner of the property.  Then, they ran off and into what looked like a shed.

 

There was something off-putting – besides two mysterious figures running through the night with a vampire’s head in a bag – about the situation.  Castiel felt himself being pushed away as he tried to land on top of the house.  He then tried to teleport inside but he remained fixed, floating in space above the grounds.  Testing his strength, he stretched his grace around the estate.  As he enveloped the house and the shed, Enochian symbols began to glow and he was denied.   

 

“Angel warding?” he muttered to himself in surprise as he landed on the curb and checked the address. “So, this is Ms. Robinson’s house.”

 

As an angel, Castiel knew that very little in this world happened by chance.  He gingerly placed his hand on the gate and found he could open it.  Stepping inside, he made his way to the back.  As Castiel rounded the corner, he saw a woman slamming the door behind her as she trudged along the yard.  He noted that she was beautiful; soft brown skin and a luscious mane of dark curly hair framed her scowling, but still lovely, face.  She clenched her bandaged hand tightly against her chest. The angel followed her as she muttered angrily to herself about “uncaring mother” and “endangering her child” until she reached the shed.  Castiel heard a stifled sob.  He watched as the woman wipe her face before entering.

 

The door shut and Castiel was locked out.  He had to gain access.  He looked around the yard for anything he could use.   He noted a nearby tree in the neighboring yard.  It was dead to the roots and in need for removal but still could be of use to him.  Castiel thought he would test his telekinesis.  Wiggling his fingers experimentally, he smirked as one of its branches began to crack.

 

~~~

 

“CeCe, this is Benny,” Kate said as Cassandra closed the door behind her and turned the light on.  An enormous man, with a build to match, nodded politely at her.  He was rather pale; chin covered in a perpetual five o’clock shadow.  But his eyes were kind. Cassandra had to stifle a snort at the sight his tiny, ill-fitting cap sitting on his massive head.

“Good evening to ya, Ms. Robinson,” the vampire drawled. “Brought you a present.”  He tossed a bloodied burlap sack onto the table where it landed with a sickening thud.  “This sum’bitch won’t be a bother no mo’...”

 

“You vampires are all old-world charm and I love it,” Cassandra cooed as she peered inside; the vampire’s head had a shocked expression on its face.  “Did it go ok?”  

 

“Until the damn cops showed up,” Kate explained.  “We couldn’t dispose of the body.  And they chased us for a bit but we lost them.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Cassandra reassured them.  “The police around here will bury it if it’s not an open and shut case.  They don’t want anything disrupting the quaint college town reputation they’ve cultivated... This town kinda sucks that way.”  She moved off to the side near an old shelving unit, wrenched opened the top drawer and pulled out a hefty file folder.

 

“Benny this is for you,” she explained, spreading its contents across the table for him to have a better look.  “Driver’s License.  Social Security.  Work History.  First and last month’s rent.  You are to be at the Red Cross in Carbondale first thing on Monday morning.  Ask for Lucinda Everett.”

 

“How did you get this all together so quickly?” Kate asked in awe.

 

“I called in a few favors.”

 

“I don’t know what to say,” Benny murmured, thoroughly impressed.

 

“Say you’ll be good or I’ll have hunters on you faster than you can say ‘catfish’,” Cassandra said evenly, her eyes as cool as her tone.  “Kate’s a good kid.  Don’t prove her wrong.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Benny replied, eyes wide with awe as he thumbed through his papers.  Suddenly, there was a loud crack like a thunderbolt as something heavy fell on top of the roof.  Cassandra shouldered opened the door and they rushed out into the moonlit yard.   Benny and Kate follow her to the house but they only made it halfway when a man in a overcoat materialized before them.  

 

“Cassandra Robinson,” he said, his voice like gravel and steel, as he stepped in front of her, his incomprehensibly blue eyes boring into hers.  “I have come to-”  But his greeting was cut short when the woman embedded her machete in the middle of his forehead.  The man blinked in surprise, looking cross-eyed at the handle.  He sighed irritably as he pulled it out, completely unaffected by the grey matter glistening on the blade.

 

“Holy shit, who are you?!” Cassandra hissed, stepping back as the man casually straightened his tie as his skull knit itself back together.

 

“What are you?!” Kate snarled.  Her fangs bared and her hands slowly morphing into blackened claws.

 

“Oh, that’s just Castiel,” Benny said, his tone caught between relief and irritation.    

 

“Benny?” Castiel asked, his head tilting curiously.  “Why are you here?”

 

“Man asks a question and gets no answers,” he teased.  “Why you’d try to kill us and wake the whole neighborhood for, Cas?”

 

“I apologize.  I meant for it to fall beside the shed,” the angel explained, his expression blank but his tone somewhat sheepish. “You must understand- it is entirely unusual for a civilian to have warding against angels in their homes.  I was sent here to protect Cassandra.”

 

“Then, don’t drop trees on us, Casserole or whatever your name is!” Kate snapped.  “Who sent you anyway?!”

 

Before Castiel could answer, he heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind his back.  He slowly turned on his heels to see Audrey aiming a shotgun squarely at his chest.

 

“Get away from them, whatever you are!” she shouted.  

 

“There is no need for violence,” Castiel said calmly.  “I am an angel of the Lord.  I will not harm yo-”

 

He did not get to finish as the old woman unloaded two shots into his sternum.  They all gasped as the man barely flinched, an annoyed look crossing his face.

 

“Please, everyone,” he groused, wiping the buckshot and rock salt from his shirt.  “Please, stop shooting and stabbing me.”  

 

“Let’s take this inside,” Cassandra suggested as her neighbors’ windows began to light up.

 

“We’re not going anywhere until this thing tells us why it’s here!” Audrey demanded, pressing her shotgun into the angel’s lapel.  

 

“I am here,” Castiel growled, pushing the barrel and the woman away.  “Because Dean Winchester sent me.”   Everyone fell quiet.

 

“Did you say Dean Winchester?” Cassandra asked, breaking the awkward silence.

 

“How do you know Dean?” Benny inquired, turning to look at her in surprise.

 

“I was his girlfriend,” she explained.  She was definitely going to drink that entire bottle of champagne now.

 

“Well, if that ain’t somethin’,” the vampire uttered in awe. “No wonder.  You’re tough as nails and prettier that than a moonbeam. You’re definitely his kinda lady.  I ran with Dean and this wack-a-doo when they were pulled into Purgatory.”  He jerked his thumb in the stranger’s direction.

 

“I am neither a ‘doo’ nor a ‘wack,” the angel sniffed indignantly.  “I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord.  I was the one who raised Dean from Perdition as entrusted to me by my Father.  I have been by his side ever since.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, brother.  Relax.  You’re definitely Dean’s kinda lady too.  No need to brag,” Benny chuckled as Castiel threw a scandalized look his way.  

 

“If everyone’s finished playing ‘Six Degrees of Dean Winchester,’ let’s get inside before someone calls the damn cops,” Cassandra grounded out between clenched teeth.  They shuffled off back toward the house in silence, the angel trailing behind them.  

 

As they approached the back door, they came to an abrupt stop.  Peeking over the werewolf’s head, Castiel saw a tawny young girl illuminated by the light of the doorway.  She stood barefoot in the grass, yawning widely as she scrubbed at her eyes.

 

For whatever reason, her sudden appearance gave Castiel pause.  Dean told him about Cassandra and her mother, but he made no mention of a child.   She had a head full of rich, dark curly hair and tiny freckles that dotted across the tops of her round cheeks and nose.  

 

But there was something about her green eyes as she blinked owlishly at the rag-tag party in front of her.  Castiel shouldered past Benny and Kate, determined to get a closer look, when he felt it.  

 

A the mark of familiar soul.  

 

A remnants powerful essence...

 

“You should be in bed,” he heard Cassandra chiding softly, pulling him from his reverie.   The child bolted forward and threw herself around the woman’s waist.  

 

“I heard you, Auntie Katie and Grandma yelling,” she muttered sleepily.  “So, I brought this.”  Cassandra smiled and took the canister of kosher salt from her hand.

 

“You know you are supposed to hide in the special room and call Uncle Garth,” she muttered.  “But thank you.  We’re all ok.  So, let’s head to bed.”  As she tried to guide her back inside, Castiel materialized in their way.  

 

“W-what the heck are you doing?!  Move!” Cassandra ordered.

 

“This is a vessel,” he croaked, his intense gaze burning into hers.  “This girl is an archangel’s vessel.”  

 

“Dude, please,” Kate pleaded.  “Let’s get inside before someone calls the damn cops...”

 

“No,” the angel replied firmly, the edges of his eyes glowing.  “Please tell me who this is.  Now.”  He glared at Cassandra and she returned it with equal ferocity, as the corners of her mouth curled into a sarcastic smile.  She gently guided the girl behind her before stepping squarely into the angel’s space.

 

“Well, if you must know, Castiel, angel of the Lord,” her words sharp and cutting as his blade.  “She’s my daughter.”

 

 

 

 

_[Mary] said my name... I can’t describe what it was like.  But it only lasted a few seconds and then she turned into...the Black Shuck, a devil dog.  A hellhound.  It spoke to me, and said, “Soon you will come to me.”_

_-J. Winchester, 11/25/83_

 

Benny and Kate flanked Castiel on the living room couch as they waited for Cassandra to return from escorting her daughter to her room.  Audrey retreated into the kitchen to prepare snacks for their many unexpected guests.  The clangor of pots and pans did their best to fill imposing, awkward silence.  Kate glared at the angel from the corner’s her eyes, sniffing disapprovingly at his ozone heavy scent and his disheveled appearance.  

 

 _He looks like a police sketch of park flasher_ , she mused to herself.  Castiel smiled awkwardly at her and she returned his kindness with a low growl.  

 

“Her name is Tamsin,” Cassandra interrupted their standoff.  They all turned to see her coming down the stairway.  “She and my mom are the number one reason why I do what I do.”

 

“And what is it that you do?” Castiel asked as the woman sat on the recliner across from them.

 

“I am like... a supernatural social worker, if you will. I use my professional connections to get hunters and some monsters things that they need,” she explained.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Well, protection, cases and paying jobs for one.  Things can get rough for hunters financially.  Some of them are more than happy to work a 9 to 5, have a regular check and save their weekends to work on cases,” she finished just as her mother returned.  Audrey placed an unusual array of snacks onto the coffee table.  Cassandra picked up her glass of wine.  Castiel raised his brow as Kate quickly snatched up what looked like a plate of chilled chicken hearts.  She popped them into her mouth and chewed enthusiastically.

 

“So good, Mrs. R,” she chirped, a wide smile playing on her lips.  Benny smirked and reached for carafe filled with a dark, thick liquid that could not be anything other than blood.  He sniffed it expressively before trying a sip.  The vampire offered some to Castiel, who declined with a pointed glare.  Benny shrugged, put a straw in the carafe.  Pure contentment washed over his face as he sipped steadily away.

 

“Do you hunt as well, Cassandra?” Castiel asked.

 

“Not really.  Only a few local salt-and-burns.  I am really prejudiced against ghosts.” The last word dripped from her mouth like acid.  “Why are you here, Castiel?”

 

“I came,” he began slowly, his eyes meeting hers.  “Because Dean received a call from this number few days ago and he was worried.”  Castiel fished a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it to the woman.  Sure enough, it was her number written in Dean’s neat scrawl.  

 

“A call?” Cassandra asked, casting him a perplexed look.  “I never called him...”

 

“Not me, dear,” Audrey said.  “But now that I think about it, I caught Tammy playing on your phone this morning while you were asleep...”

 

“I am going to kill her,” Cassandra groaned, resting her face in her hands.  Castiel noted that one had been bandaged.  

 

“I don’t think Dean would appreciate you murdering his progeny,” the angel said simply.  Benny and Kate choked on their respective treats, their coughs filling the imposing, awkward silence.

 

“W-what?!” the werewolf sputtered, wiping at her watery eyes. “Dean is Tam’s dad?!”

 

“I never said anythin-”

 

“There was no need,” Castiel cut Cassandra off. “Michael’s grace - his angelic power-  has clearly touched her.  Only those within the Winchester’s direct bloodline can serve as vessels for that kind of power.”  

 

“Why didn’t you say anything before, CeCe?” Kate asked.  

 

“It’s...complicated,” she said lamely, mouth drawing into a tight frown.  

 

“Indulge me,” Castiel returned.

 

“I met Dean when I was in college and things were going really well until he told me about his ‘alternative lifestyle,’” Cassandra began, twisting her fingers in her lap.  “I broke up with him and cut him out of my life until my father and uncle were killed by a ghost in 2006.  So, I asked him for help and during that time we, um...reunited.”

 

“Understatement,” Kate murmured, her cheeks blazing red.  

 

“I’ll say,” Benny chimed-in, with a cheeky wink.  “Sounds like Dean to me...”

 

“Look, honestly, I was fine with it,” Cassandra continued, a blushing furiously.  “Mom and me, we were happy to have an addition to our, um, dwindling family...” She paused, swallowing thickly.  “But, believe me - I wanted to call Dean, every day for eight years, but that life - his life - isn’t right for anyone, especially for a young child...”

 

Castiel dipped his head sympathetically.  He knew a hunter’s life was a dangerous and a lonely one.  And while Dean rarely spoke about his childhood but when he did, there was no mistaking the misery in his voice when he talked about his father dragging them across the country in their youth.  He would disappear for weeks without a single call, never knowing if he would come back at all.  The constant and ever-present threat of death from their supernatural foes; never knowing if they would have food or shelter to sustain them; the fear of being taken away by local enforcement - these were things a child should never have to worry about.

 

Castiel thought of James, who had begged him not to take his daughter away.  He imagined the pain it would have caused him had he kept her as his vessel - her life unending - constantly at war with Heaven and Hell and everything in between.  Castiel knew that his Father intended for human children to be kept safe; to be loved; to grow up and do it all over again for their own children.  

 

“When did this all start?” he asked.

 

“About a month ago,” Cassandra explained.  “I was playing with Tam in the house and she just started convulsing.  My father suffered from seizures as a child, so I thought it skipped a generation.  I grabbed her to keep her from biting her tongue and then there this terrible ringing in my head and my whole body felt like it was on fire.  And, when I was able to let go, my hand was badly burnt.”  She removed the bandage for a second time, and held it out for all to see.  Castiel let out a faint growl.  Cassandra’s palms and fingertips were red, blistered and raw.    

 

“I knew Tamsin was sick but you never said anything about all of this,” Kate said softly as her friend re-wrapped her wound.

 

“It’s my… _our_ problem,” Cassandra said firmly, as her mother clutched her shoulder.  “I don’t want it broadcast to the world that I’m a Winchester’s baby’s mama.  I’d rather keep the whole matter quiet.  Believe me, we have tried everything, short of visiting a crossroads demon...”  As she finished, Castiel leaned forward, resting his stubbly chin on steeped fingers.  

 

“Cassandra Robinson,” he said, voice rough but kind. “I am not inclined to keep this matter from Dean...”

 

“Cas, brother, please,” Benny pleaded but fell silent when the angel raised his hand.

 

“However, I am not inclined to tell him either.”

 

“What are you saying?” asked Audrey.  

 

“I am saying,” the angel continued, standing up and crossing over to Cassandra’s side. “I want to help.  If Heaven is involved, you will need me.”  He stared directly into Cassandra’s eye unblinking.  As he took her injured hand into his own, a light filled the room.  Cassandra saw her hand had been healed.  There was no pain, no scarring.  She flexed her fingers, eyes wide in complete disbelief. “Will you allow me to help you?”

 

“Fine,” Cassandra relented.  “But you’re fixing my shed first...”

~~~

 

_Shoshone, Idaho_

 

Alice Cassity’s horses reared high on their high legs as the hellhound bounded down the stable with Dean chasing close behind.  The hound ricocheted off a wheelbarrow, sending it sliding into the wall.  It snarled over its shoulder as Dean swiped at its serpentine tail.  He continued to chase the after the beast until they reached storage.  The beast took advantage of the dark to take cover in the high bails of hay.  

 

Dean swiveled, trying to pinpoint the monster as its snarls echoed around him.   Suddenly, he was hit hard from behind.  Dean fell against the ground and his glasses and knife clattering across the floor.  Before he could blink, the hellhound had him pinned.  Dean grunted as the beast’s hot, rancid breath wafted across his face.  The hellhound was immensely huge with a mouthful of frightening flesh-render fangs as long as a man’s arm.  Its face and body was a collection of souls, twisted in eternal torment that had been dragged down into The Pit.   They howled in tune with the hound; many blackened mouths snarling and wailing as the beast did.  

 

As Dean felt the gnash of its teeth against his cheek, something knocked the hound off him.  Dean rolled onto his feet just in time to see Sam slash the hellhound across its face.  It dodged the net blow, crouching low and pouncing onto his brother.  Dean shouted angrily and drove the Demon killing knife into its shoulder.  The hellhound roared and swiped at him, leaving itself open for Sam to plunge an Angel Blade into its chest.   He slit the beast clean from its throat to its groin; a wave of black blood gushed from its body and all over his brother.  The monster emitted a final howl before collapsing heavily on top of Sam.  Gasping, they rolled the hound’s carcass away.

 

“You ok?” Dean asked breathily.

 

“Yeah,” Sam managed through the tar-like blood, slick in his nose and mouth.   He reached out his arm and Dean helped him stand.  “I’m good...I think.”

 

“Then, let’s wrap this up.”  Dean pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read it aloud, “Kah-nuh-ahm-dahr.”  Nothing happened.

 

“L-let me try,” Sam sputtered, wiping his mouth and eyes with his sleeve.  He took the note from Dean.  “Kah-nuh-ahm-dahr.”  As he finished, Sam’s right hand and forearm began to glow.  A shock of pain jolted through his little brother’s body, causing him to cry out and doubled over.  Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, struggling to see his arm.  But then, the light and the pain faded.  

 

“What the fuck was that?” Dean asked, hauling his still-gasping brother to his feet.  

 

“The First Trial,” Sam replied grimly.

 

Once they had showered and packed, and once Dean had made sure Ellie - the stable hand- was safe, the Winchesters put Shoshone, in their rearview mirror.  They rode in relative silence until they crossed the Idaho border.  Suddenly, Sam erupted into a coughing fit.  Dean noted the small smattering of blood on his brother’s hand as he hastily wiped it off on his pant leg.  

 

“First trial complete, huh?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual. “Are you doing ok?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said dismissively. “I am just tired.”

 

“Killing a hellhound and have your body light up like the 4th of July will do that to a man, Sammy (“It’s Sam!” his little brother snapped).  But shit, are you honestly okay?”

“I told you that I am fine,” Sam said firmly.  “But I should be asking you the same question, Dean...”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We’ve been going hard since Cas left.  Between meeting our grandfather, fighting off a freakin’ Knight of Hell, finding the Men of Letters hideout, killing zombie Nazis and, now we’re trying to close Hell’s Gate...” Sam trailed off, looking utterly exhausted.  “All of that and still no word from him, right?”

 

“Oh, there have been plenty of words,” Dean grounded out, knuckles drawn tight on the steering wheel.  “He just sends me daily texts but he never calls.  Says he’s busy in Girardeau, working on a new case that needs all of his attention.”  The Impala began to pick up speed with every word.

 

“Slow down!” his little brother snapped.  “Geez, Dean!  So, you haven’t hooked up with your boyfriend in a two weeks and you start acting like a nut!  No wonder that freakin’ hellhound ran from you!”

 

Dean grunted angrily.  The conversation had gotten away from him.  Worse.  It was about him.  He turned on the radio as loud as he could to drown Sam out who promptly shut it off.  

 

“Seriously?!” Sam balked.  “You’d throw yourself on a grenade to avoid talking about your freakin’ feelings, Dean!”

 

“Whatever,” Dean snorted. “Let’s get you home first.  Then, we’ll worry about that feathery pain in my ass.”  Sam sighed and turned to the window.  He watched the flatlands fade from gray to gold as the sun rose behind them.

 

 

~~~

 

Cassandra perused the shelves of her makeshift supernatural library, searching for a copy of a Phoenician tome on about spiritual cleansing rituals.  She found it and added it to the steadily growing pile at her feet.   With a grunt, she picked everything up and carefully, balancing the precariously stacked pillar of books, made her way to the kitchen where she found Castiel staring out of the back door, tilting his head left and right like a satellite dish trying to find the right frequency.

 

 _Angels are really weird_ , she mused to herself, dumping the books onto the kitchen table.  At first, she attributed Castiel’s odd behavior to the fact that he had been a wave of light for most of his existence.  The concept of privacy and personal space were completely foreign to him; Cassandra lost count of the times she asked him not to stand over her during her rare moments of sleep; or that the shower was not the best place to discuss their findings (especially while she was using it); or that he should warn them tattooing Enochian warding symbols on their rib cages would be extremely painful (she threatened him with bodily harm if he tried it with her eight year old daughter).

 

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asked, her curiosity winning her over.  “Tuning into your, uh, ‘angel radio’?”  She remembered he once told her that angels communicate using various sound waves.  

 

“Yes,” Castiel answered without turning around.   “A man called for you when you were downstairs.  He wants to know if would accompany him to share a meal and a view a movie with him tonight.  His name was Jeff.  He sounded handsome.”

 

“Pass,” she sighed, looking warily at the research that covered every inch of the kitchen table.  She had been looking for a cure nearly non-stop.  Cassandra would have loved to go out and have fun like any other normal human being.  Hell, even Kate and Benny went with her family to SEMU’s fair this morning.  The thought of missing out on funnel cakes and ferris wheel rides left her a bit salty.  “Any other messages that are not from gentlemen callers?”

 

“No,” he said quietly, tilting his head.

 

“You’re not alone,” Cassandra said sympathetically as she scribbled notes in her journal.  “Missouri can’t divine anything.  Maybe Michael is gone?”

 

“No,” he replied. “I felt his presence this morning. There is much talk about Michael amongst my brothers and intend to find out what they know.”

 

“If they are aware, are they...?”

 

“They won’t come after Tamsin, if that’s what you are afraid of,” Castiel answered gruffly.  “They can sense Michael’s grace but they cannot pinpoint its source.  I suspect that’s his doing.”

 

“That’s a relief,” the woman sighed.  “But where does that leave us?”

 

“At a slight disadvantage, but I may found someone who may know something.  But getting him to tell us might be...dangerous.”

 

“Dangerous how?” Cassandra asked, but he did not answer.  The angel threw her an odd look before walking off in the direction of the dining room, leaving Cassandra to scramble after him.  “What are you talking abou-AH! OH MY, GOD!”  She sang to her knees at the sight of what was once her mother’s pristine dining room.  The furniture had been cleared out; black cloth had been hung over the windows; and the floor had been covered in symbols written in white paint.

 

“I promise to put everything right afterwards,” Castiel when he saw the horror on the woman’s face.  He produced a small jar from his breast pocket and, stepping out into the center of the room, poured it into a circle.

 

“W-what are you doing?!” Cassandra stammered.

 

“A summoning spell,” the angel said matter-of-factly as he lit the match and tossed it to the floor.

 

“My m-mom’s h-hardwood floors,” she stammered, swaying on shaking legs as a ring of fire sprung to life, filling room with heat and smoke.  “M-My grandpa made and installed them himself...”  But Castiel ignored her panic and set to work.  A few rare ingredients, some chants in Enochian and a flash in a pan, a man appeared, kneeling within the flames.  From what Cassandra could see through the flicker flames, he was young and dressed in what looked like a fast food uniform - a broad red and white pinstriped shirt over white khakis and a nametag that read ‘Alfie.”  The poor thing let out a cry, falling hard to his bottom as he realized he was trapped in the flames.

 

“B-Brother Castiel,” he stammered, when he saw his captor.  “I don’t know how you f-found me, but please-”

 

“Samandiriel,” Castiel spoke, his tone oddly gentle.  “I won’t hurt you...”

 

“Then, why have you trapped me?!” Samandiriel coiled his arms around his shaky legs, hiding his face in his knees.

 

“Castiel!” Cassandra shouted, pulling roughly on his sleeve to make him face her.  “Are you using ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’ on him to tell you what he knows?!  My house is not Gitmo for angels!”

 

“We cannot permit him to escape,” he whispered to her, his eyes never leaving Samandiriel’s.

 

“You’ve got five minutes!” she hissed at him.  “And then I’m getting the extinguisher!”

 

“Saman, please,” Castiel continued.  “I need to know why Michael has been trying to possess one of his vessels.  How is this even possible?”

 

“M-Michael is strong, y-you know this,” Samandiriel sniffled, wiping his sweat-beaded brow on a tattered sleeve.  “As the First, Father designed him so that his power would never diminish, even if he cannot free himself from the cage...”  

 

“Why does he need a vessel?”

 

“Because he needs help.”

 

“With what?”

 

“We can only guess.  None of us can hear the message, let alone decipher it...  Brother Inias believes the conduit is too young, too weak for him to properly communicate.  Sister Ruth says he does not intend for us to hear, especially with Heaven in disarray and so many delighted by his indefinite absence...”  Castiel’s heart thumped loudly in his ears.  It had been nearly two years since he and Raphael ripped Heaven apart with civil war,  leaving thousands dead, hundreds more into hiding, and only a few seeking control.  Michael’s return could mean an end to the chaos - the restoration of order.      

 

“Castiel?” Cassandra’s voice penetrated the fog his thoughts.  She frowned as he slowly turned to look at her, eyes glassy and inscrutable.  With an impatient snort, the woman dashed from the room, snatching the fire extinguisher from the pantry.   Cassandra raced back into the dining room and put out the flames until there was nothing but a smouldering ring.  

 

“Thank you!” she shouted at Samandiriel, stamping out the last glowing ember.  “I am sorry about that!  Now run!”  The angel wasted no time and vanished.  

~~~

 

Sam coughed violently into his hands and flinched when he saw the blood flecked on his palms.  He snatched up a napkin left over from last night’s dinner and wiped them clean, burying the evidence at the bottom of the trash.  

 

“Hey, Doc Holliday, you all right over there?” he heard his brother ask from the archives.  Dean was searching through the mountains of crates all morning.  The Men of Letters had amassed an large collection of supernatural and mystical artifacts and Dean was intent on discovering what they all did even though the last one he had played with had left him with half an eyebrow for several weeks.

 

“Uh, yeah.  Um, I’m fine,” Sam said hastily, watching Dean carefully from behind his laptop.  “Everything’s great.”  

                      

“So says you,” Dean replied incredulously, sniffing at something that resembled a Faberge egg.  He recoiled from it, shoved it back into its box and threw it back onto its shelf.  He then padded his way over to Sam and took the seat next to him.  “What are you looking at, bitch?”

 

“Local publications and police reports for Cape Girardeau, jerk!”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I know you are worried about Cas, Dean!” Sam snarled, rolling his eyes at his brother’s trademark stubbornness.  “You haven’t seen him in a while now and you’re going stir-crazy.  I caught you in here last night singing Tanya Tucker songs and drinking a bottle of whiskey.”

 

“And I just call that Tuesday night,” Dean groused.  

 

“Yeah, yeah.  Check this out,” Sam said, pushing the laptop toward his brother.  Dean saw a gallery of real-time pictures recording Cape Girardeau’s ‘College’ Fair.  South Eastern Missouri University’s student body held an annual carnival to raise funds and celebrate with the community.   He recognized a young, blonde woman in a random shot of festival goers.

 

“Isn’t that that werewolf girl from that case we worked on in Michigan?”

 

“Yeah. Kate.  And look at who else,” Dean followed Sam’s finger to the person next to her.  

 

“B-Benny?”  The vampire was standing next to Kate, wearing a bucket hat and aviator sunglasses.  

 

“What are Benny and Kate doing at a carnival in your ex-girlfriend’s hometown with one of the few monsters we’ve ever let go, Dean?”

 

“Clearly enjoying fried dough and corndogs,” Dean snarked. “Even werewolves and vamps gotta enjoy the little things in life, ya know.”

 

“I am getting a machete and some silver bullets,” Sam muttered quietly, closing his laptop with a firm click.  Dean grabbed at him as he rose from his seat.

“Sam, no! Come on!  If Benny causes any problems, then,” his brother paused,  swallowed thickly at the thought. “Then, I am sure Cas will do what he needs to.  Besides, we both agreed to leave Kate alone.”

 

“Fine!” Sam snapped, wrenching his arms from his brother’s grasp.  “But we’re still going to Girardeau.  I swear to God, if I have to listen to you wailing  ‘Dream Lover’ one more time...”  He frowned as he flared his nostrils and narrowed his eyes at Dean before stomping off, his flouncing in his stride.

 

“It’s a classic!” Dean hollered after him.

~~~

 

The sun had just slipped beneath the horizon when everyone returned from a long day of fried foods and festival rides.  Castiel volunteered to carry a tuckered-out Tamsin to the house; the girl was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

 

“Thank you so much for taking them out today,” Cassandra said, as she leaned to pulling Kate into a hug through the passenger window.  “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

 

“No trouble at all, CeCe,” the werewolf returned with a smile.  “We totally ate our weight in cotton candy...”

 

“And we rode every thing twice,” Benny added.

 

“Would you like to come in?” she offered.  “I made some hamburgers.  It’s the only thing Castiel will eat, now that I am thinking about it...”

 

“No thanks, I think we both prefer our meat to be bloodier,” Kate chuckled. “Besides, we have work in the morning.  We’ll see you guys next weekend!”  They waved goodbye and sped off.  

 

“Cassie, why was this extinguisher on the dining room table?” Audrey asked her daughter as she entered.  Cassandra shrugged, brushing past her mother on her way to the living room.   With a weary sigh, she fell face first onto the couch.

 

“I have to call Dean,” she confessed when she heard her mother’s footsteps.  Cassandra felt the cushions dipped as Audrey came to sit beside her.  “We’re out of options.”

 

“We’ve done all that we can,” Audrey soothed, stroking her daughter’s curls.  

 

“He’ll be angry.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“He’ll hate me.”

 

“Possibly.”

 

“I wouldn’t put it past him to try and shoot me...”

 

“Doubt it.”

 

“But I don’t care,” Cassandra said resolutely. “If we cure Tammy,  it’ll be worth it.”

 

“Definitely,” her mother cooed.  Just then, Castiel appeared behind them, causing the women to squawk in surprise.

  

“Stop doing that!” Mother and daughter shouted in unison.

 

“Door,” the angel returned, his tone and expression unapologetic.   Cassandra and Audrey exchanged confused looks, not knowing what to say at the strange announcement.  

 

And then, the doorbell rang.  

 

“Who could it be?  At this hour?” Audrey asked, pulling a .45 from taped to the bottom of the side table.

 

“No idea,” her daughter said, suspicion thick in her voice.  Cassandra leapt onto her feet, stooping low to grab her shotgun from under the couch before heading to the foyer.  She crept quietly on the balls of her feet, motioning for Castiel to flank her.

 

But the angel had disappeared.  Rolling her eyes, Cassandra held her gun at the ready and peered through the peephole.  She recoiled instantly; her hand covering her gasping mouth.  Quickly, she put the gun’s safety back on before stashing it in the umbrella stand.  She straightened her clothing and smoothed her hair with trembling hands.  With a deep breath, she released the latch and pull the door open.

 

“Hello,” Cassandra greet as calmly as she could muster.

 

“Long time, no see, Cassie,” Dean returned, a wide smile crossing his handsome face.  “Can we come in?”

 

 

 

 

_“Usually after a hunt [Dean’s] on fire, [but today,] you can’t talk to him…I’m getting more and more sure that [Dean] had some kind of girl trouble in Ohio, and every female spirit and demon in North America’s going to suffer for it...”_

_\- J. Winchester, 5/2/03 - 6/13/03_

 

_Michael watched Lucifer retreat to his corner to lick his wounds.  He had delivered a particularly severe beating to his brother when he felt it.  He knew he had to hurry; that his window of opportunity was brief._

 

_“You’re a fool,” his brother hissed, his many eyes glinting in the dark._

 

_“Be silent, petulant child,” Michael shot back, his own wounds knitting close.  Lucifer chuckled cruelly as he folded his wings around his form, shielding himself from his brother’s sight.  Michael sighed and sank to the floor.  The archangel flapped his wings fiercely, testing his sore joints.  They had been locked in the cage for what felt like centuries.  Everyday was the same - Lucifer would wake and attack him with everything he had and Michael would defend.  He could have killed his brother anytime but what would be the point?  Lucifer was in the cage his father designed.  He would never be a threat to anyone ever again.  And Michael would make sure it stayed that way, even if..._

_He shook his many heads, driving the dark thoughts from his mind.  The archangel had other concerns; his freedom could wait.  Sensing that Lucifer was finally resting,  Michael gingerly pushing his grace against the barriers of the Cage.  The walls stretch, his entire being humming as he concentration the whole of his being, pushing-pushing-pushing until breaks free, rocketing through every level of Hell toward Earth.  Michael’s grace soars over field and mountain until it reached the sleepy riverside town of Cape Girardeau towards the Robinsons’ home, nestled peacefully in dark suburb._

 

_Carefully, Michael dove into the girl’s dreamscape.  The archangel found her in a flowery field, sitting at a table surrounded by favorite toys: a stuffed unicorn, a mechanical Tyrannosaurus, and a teddy bear doctor.  They all greeted Michael cheerfully as he approached._

 

_“Hi!” Tamsin chirped, pouring some sparkling brew into the dinosaur’s saucer.  “Want some?”_

 

_“I am afraid I have to pass,” the archangel said, his tone urgent but apologetic. “He’s here.”_

 

_“Right now?” she asked._

 

_“Yes,” Michael answered softly.  “I-I don’t have much time...”_

 

_“Then, what are we waiting for?”_

 

_“I know how badly you have wanted to see him,” he replied.  “This could be your only chance...”   The girl frowned. Suddenly, her dream world dissolved around them, leaving them in the dark._

 

_“I’m waking up,” Tamsin said firmly.  A pinprick of light began to twinkle beneath their floating feet, expanding slowly as it encased them within its ethereal glow. “You comin’ or what?”_

 

_“But, what about-”_

 

_“Forget him,” she returned earnestly, cutting off the archangel’s protest.  “Let’s go.”  Before he could respond, Tamsin seized his hand in hers, pulling them downward through the portal of light._

 

~~~

 

Cassandra froze.  Dean had matured greatly, his crow’s feet crinkled pleasantly as he smiled down at her.  His eyes were kind, soft - something she couldn’t understand after all his suffering.     

 

“Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Sam asked, his huge form looming over his brother’s shoulder.  He offered her a goofy grin and scratched his stubbly chin.  When she had last seen the Winchesters, he was just a tall, gangly kid.  Now, he was a man - the softness of his face had melted away, leaving a chiseled jaw and wide brow.  His hair was so long that it reached his broad shoulders.  If it wasn’t for the bump on his nose, Cassandra would have never recognized him.

 

“Y-yes, come in,” she stammered, stepping aside to let them in.  She felt their eyes on her back as she locked the door and pushed the salt-filled doorstopper back in place with her foot.

 

“Um, expecting someone?” Sam inquired, humor in his tone.

 

“Excuse me?”  He pointed to the shotgun in the umbrella stand.  Blushing, Cassandra fished it out.  “A girl can never be too careful with ghosts and all...”  She gestured at them to follow her, leading them into the kitchen where her mother had already begun to prepare snacks for their unexpected guests.  The chairs groaned under the weight of the Winchesters as they sat at the table while Cassandra stored her gun away in the pantry (against all common sense that begged her to hold on to it.).  She glanced at the back door.  The desire to escape flitted through her mind.   Under the accusatory smile of an Aunt Jemima syrup bottle, Cassandra sank onto the floor.  She pulled her knees tight against her chest as if to keep them herself from bolting.

 

“Oh, shut up,” she hissed at the plastic pancake maker.  “Like you’re so perfect...”

 

“Cassie, honey, are you alright?” a voice whispered from the doorway.  She snapped her head up in surprise.  Her mother was looking down at her, eyes misty as she held onto a tray of steaming mugs and a plate full of cookies.

 

“No, I just need to clean up my own mess ” Cassandra mumbled into her kneecaps.  Then more loudly, she said: “Can you head upstairs?  Make sure everyone is ok?”  Audrey nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.  She winced at the false cheer in her mother’s voice, the gently clinging of china as she dispensed treats to her guests.  Cassandra waited, until she heard the tell-tale creaking kitchen door, before pull herself up onto her feet.  Aunt Jemima continued to stare.  Cassandra stared back.  With a sigh, she pushed it over before stepping through the threshold.

 

She all but threw herself into the seat across from Dean.  But neither brother seemed to notice as their faces were shielded by oversized cocoa mugs.

 

“So, you two look like you’ve been doing well?”  Cassandra started, fingers drumming nervously on the tabletop.

 

“We’ve been up and down,” Dean said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.   “But, um, we’re sorry to surprise you and everything...”

 

“But we’re here because we got a call from you,” Sam continued.  

 

“I am sorry that I sent Castiel instead of us but we were already on another case,” Dean explained.  “Are you two alright?  I... We were worried when we didn’t hear anything.”

“Um, not really,” she replied awkwardly, brushing a lock from her eyes.  “Castiel has been helping me with my, uh, case.”  She grimaced, her full lips drawn tightly over her pained face.  Cassandra hated talking about her own child like she was the subject of a Ghost Facers’ webisode.  “I was actually about to call you guys because we’re not making much headway...”

 

“Cassandra,” Dean said earnestly, setting his mug aside as his hands reached for hers.  Cassandra didn’t move away, she didn’t flinch as his callous but loving fingers woven through her own.  Her body betrayed her with a slight tremor.  Dean frowned.  “What’s going on?”

 

Just then, before words could find Cassandra again, a little girl appeared in the doorway.  Everyone stared curiously at her standing there in her purple pajamas dotted with smiling yellow stars.  She returned their gaze, her green eyes distant and cold, as they narrowed in on Dean as she shuffled over to her mother’s side.

 

“Tam?” Cassandra asked, rising to her feet.  “Did we wake you?”  The girl shook her head, her eyes never leaving the man beside her as she brushed past her mother to stand in front of him.  Dean wilted a bit under the girl’s intense glare.  He looked helplessly at Sam, who simply shrugged.

 

“We didn’t know you had a, uh, kid, Cassandra,” Sam said, hiding his frown behind his cocoa mug.

 

“Are the grown-ups making too much noise, little lady?” Dean chuckled awkwardly.  “Ya know, I am a bit of a grouch when I just wake up mysel-AH!”  Tamsin’s hands shot out, catching the man by the throat.   With unimaginable strength, she hauled him from his seat and hurled him across the kitchen floor.  Dean grunted in pain when his back connected with the kitchen island, an assortment of utensils crashing down onto his head.  

 

“W-what the-?!” Sam shouted in surprise, while he reached for his gun. Tamsin simply rolled her eyes.  With a flick her wrist, Sam’s body slammed upward into the ceiling before crashing down onto the table below.  The girl then turned her focus to her mother.    

 

“I am sorry about this, Cassandra Robinson,” Tamsin said quietly.  Cassandra faltered at the sound of Tamsin’s voice:  it was low, rumbling like thunder.

 

“Get out!” Cassandra snarled, pulling herself onto shaky feet as realization swept over her.  “Please, get out of my child!  Michael, leave her alone!”  The girl frowned deeply.

 

“I am sorry, Cassandra,” Michael repeated, his voice full of contrition. “I didn’t mean to cause either of you pain.  But I need this fool’s help.”  

 

“Fine!” the woman shouted back.  “Take him!  But why do you need Tammy to do it?!”

 

“He shut me out,” the archangel explained, slowly crossing over to Dean’s unconscious form.  “But she did not.”  And with that, Michael took hold of Dean’s shirt collar and disappeared.

~~~

 

_Gray.  All Dean could see was an expansive, unending gray.  He felt a tug at his right arm.  Looking down, he saw the little girl from the kitchen - the little girl who threw him around like a ragdoll - clutching his sleeve._

_“Where the hell are we, kid?” he heard himself ask, his voice echoing in the void.  He knew he ought to get away from her but, for whatever reason, Dean wanted to stay.  “What is this place?”_

_“My mind,” the girl replied.  He noted that she was looking at everything but him; her bright eyes scanning the gray.  “But that’s not important ‘cause he is on his way now.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Michael.”   Dean and Tamsin looked over their shoulders at the sound of a voice behind them.   Dean gasped, his heart thumped furiously at the sight of the figure materializing before them.  It was his half brother Adam.  The girl let go of Dean instantly and ran towards him, leaping into Adam’s open arms as knelt down to meet her.  She squealed in delight as her affectionately ruffled her curly mop._

_“Kid! Get away from him!” Dean shouted, rounding on his brother with his fists clenched, knowing full well the archangel could tear his body in half with a look.  He didn’t care.  He couldn’t stomach the thought of another child being manipulated by God’s so-called angels.  “Why the hell are we here? You’re still salty I wouldn’t let you wear me to the Apocalypse?”_

_“I am not over-seasoned with salt as you say, Dean Winchester,” Michael said smoothly.  “Tamsin was so kind as to help me arrange this meeting.  I need your help.”  He lowered her onto her feet.  Tamsin quickly took hold of his hand, beaming up at Michael as he returned an equally radiant smile._

_“Forget it!  Call one of your brothers!” he spat, interrupting their happy reunion._

_“They cannot help me.  I do not trust them.” the archangel replied softly, his eyes too sorrowful, too honest to Dean’s liking._

_“You can’t be serious... You trust me?!” Dean balked. “You trust the guy who helped put your ass in the cage in the first place?!”_

_“I trust you to do the right thing,” Michael returned.  “The cage was meant to hold angels, not humans.  Adam is deteriorating.” The archangel gestured at his borrowed form. Dean noticed that his little brother looked a little worse for wear.  Adam’s face was gaunt; his eyes red-rimmed and sunken.  He looked a seconds away from death._

_Angels lie, he told himself.  Angels aren’t any different from humans.  They lie to get what they want.  But Dean also knew he had failed Adam.  Death had given him an opportunity to save his youngest brother before and he passed him over for Sam._

_“Fuck that,” Dean growled.  “Go ask Crowley.”_

_“That filth is of no use to me,” Michael growled.  His voice rumbled like thunder. “You made the choice to leave Adam here.”_

_“No, you made the choice that got you both where you are today.!” Dean yelled back. “You and your goddamn angels, manipulating everyone and doing whatever you could to get what you want.  You and your God did this to Adam.  Not me!”_

_“Please!” Tamsin begged, panic marred her young face as she wrapped her arms around Michael’s neck. “My mom says that you should help to others when they ask for help!”  Dean winced.  He felt obligated to obey to her; to let years of his distrust of anything and everything supernatural melt away.   But Dean wasn’t that foolish.  He sucked at his teeth, frustrated, angry that once again his family and innocents had been put in harm by God’s feathery jackasses._

_“Fine,” he conceded, lips forming in a sarcastic snarl.  “You tell me what we need to do and maybe - MAYBE -  I’ll think about it.”  Adam’s and Tamsin’s faces softened._

_“You still have the keys to the cage,” the archangel explained, his tone hopeful.  “I want you to break into Hell and use them.”_

_“You want me to go back into the pit?” Dean asked, eyes wide in shock.  “You can’t be serious?  Firstly, I have been to Hell.  It sucked.  Secondly, every demon wants a piece of my ass and you just expect me to waltz right in?”_

_“Yes,” Michael continued slowly.  “If my brother through past my defenses, I would rather our impending battle destroy Hell than Earth...  That’s why when you open the cage and take Adam, you need to seal it immediately after.”_

_“Wait,” Dean said, realization finally dawning on him.  “Michael, are you saying you’re willing to stay?  In Hell?  Forever?!”   He looked at the archangel and was met with a resigned stare.  The girl sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes as Michael lowered her back onto her feet.  With a gentle push, she returned to Dean’s side where, with tears streaming down her trembling cheeks, she took his hand._

_“I made Adam a promise,” Michael said softly, looking squarely at the girl.   “I made my Father a promise.  And I will keep them.”_

_The gray world began to grow brighter, declining into a blinding white.  Dean pulled Tamsin to his side, shielding them both from the harsh glare._

_“Thank you, child,” he heard the archangel utter softly.  “Soon, you’ll both be in the waking world.  This is where we must say goodbye, my friend...”_

_And then, they faded away._

 

~~~

 

Dean woke up in a softly lit room, covered up to his ears in quilts.  He groaned, rubbing his face with a shaky hand.  Slowly, he pulled himself into a sitting position, wiped the corners of his mouth.  As his sight adjusted, Dean realized he was in one of the Robinson’s guest rooms.  He had no idea what had just happened: One moment, he and the kid were talking to Michael and then the next...

 

He looked about the room.  It was decorated with local flare and the girl’s artwork.  His eyes fell to a hand print ashtray set on a nearby night table.  Dean couldn’t help but smile.  When they were kids, he had made one for his father and when Sam was old enough, he had made one for him. Gingerly, he picked the ashtray up and turned it over.

 

 

_Tamsin D. Robinson, Age 4. Jefferson Elementary, Pre-K, Class A.  September 30th, 2010._

 

Dean’s thoughts died away as a chill crept up his spine.  Michael had possessed Tamsin.  He had possessed the girl in order to get to Dean.  Angels were not like demons: they could not take control of a human being unless...

 

The ashtray fell into his lap, his mind working furiously as the pieces fell into place.  The girl looked to be about seven or eight years old.  Michael took her as a vessel.  Angelic vessels were familial.  

 

“I sensed you were awake.’  Dean’s head snapped up at the sound of Castiel’s voice.  The angel stood at the foot of his bed, his brow furrowed.   He broke free of the downy confines of his bed and retreated into the bathroom without a word.  Castiel heard the sounds of the sink as Dean washed away the remnants of sleep.  

 

“How is the kid?”

 

“Unharmed,” the angel answered.  “And asleep in her bed.”

 

“And where is Cassandra, Cas?”  Castiel’s mouth pulled into a thin line.  He looked away.  

 

“Dean, we should talk about this in the mornin-”  With a growl, Dean stalked out into the hallway with the angel at his heels.  He thundered down the stairs, slowing toward the bottom when Dean saw Sam, Cassandra and her mother sitting in the living room.  They all turned to look at Dean as he stalked in front of them, looking murderous.

 

“Dean?!” Sam cried, bolting from his seat. “Are you alright?”  Dean did not answer, instead, he headed straight for Cassandra.  

 

“Michael used that kid -Excuse me!- my kid as a vessel!” he shouted as he towered over her.  His face was thunderous, contorted with anger.  Sam looked stupefied at Dean’s revelation.  Everyone looked helplessly at Cassandra, who sat still, returning her former lover’s glare with unnerving calm.   “I don’t know if you know but only people with my father’s - my blood - can be Michael’s fucking vessel!” Cassandra sat perfectly still, her eyes remaining calm.  “How could you not tell me about something like this?!  Let go, Sam!” he roared, wrenching his arm away when Sam tried to coax him into a seat.   “Say something!”  Cassandra refused to wilt under Dean’s piercing glare. 

 

“I did what I needed to do,” she answered evenly.  “And that included not telling you.”  Dean sank down onto the coffee table with a thump, and his jaw worked soundlessly through his shock.  

 

“So, you think I’m no good then?” he asked, finding his voice again.  “I’m some kind of fuck up?  You think I can’t keep her safe?!”

 

“Children need stability, Dean,”  Cassandra replied, folding her hands in her lap.   “A hunter’s life can’t provide that.  She needs to go to school; to have friends; to be free to live a life as normal possible.  As her mother, I thought this way was best…”

 

“And as her father,” Dean snapped.  “We could have done it together.  You’re always fucking doing this shit, Cassie.  You’re always pushing me away!”

 

“Please, Dean,” she pleaded quietly. “I don’t want a life like that.  Not for her.  A child shouldn’t have to be raised to shoot first and ask questions later.”

 

“That’s how hunters survive!,” he heard himself shout.  “That’s how humans survive!  That’s how Sam and I survive!”

 

"Yes, but that's not people should live!" she cried. 

 

“I know we’re not perfect...” Sam whispered, fists clenched as he struggled to keep his cool.  “But we’re doing the best we can...”

 

“And so are we,”  Cassandra returned sternly.  “It’s just not your way.”

 

“Fuck this bullshit,” Dean snapped.  He rushed out of the living room and through the front door toward the Impala, his breath billowing starkly in the night air as he swore to himself.  Sam chased after him, and his long legs caught up before Dean could put the keys into the door.

 

“Dean!  Dean, stop!” he heard Sam shout.  Dean climbed in and slammed the car door shut.   The Impala roared to life and peeled away.

 

~~~

 

The manager’s keys jiggled as he led Dean to his motel room.  They stopped in front of room 113, next to a humming vending machine.  The manager opened the door and  turned on the lights.

 

“Here you are.  Best seat in the house,” the manager croaked.  Dean brushed past him into the room, reeking of mildew and cigar smoke.  He sighed.  Unsurprisingly, the room had its usual extremely dated decor - wallpaper from the tail-end of the 1960s with bedding, curtains and upholstery to match.  Dust piled thickly on nearly every surface; cobwebs collecting in every corner.  Dean thanked the manager and shoved a few bills into his hand before closing the door behind him.

 

Dean’s bags hit the floor as he made for the bathroom.  He wanted to shower.  No, he needed to shower.  He let his clothes fall to the ground, kicking his boots off before stepping on the cool, cracked tiles.  The  rusted metal rings of the shower curtain screeched across the hanging rod when he threw the curtain open and turned the faucet.  The pipes rattled to life; water spraying wildly from a shuddering shower head.  Dean climbed in and sat hard on the floor of the tub.  He closed his eyes as the water did its best to wash away his thoughts.   

 

When he emerged from the bathroom, the scent of a freshly cooked burger caught his attention.  He saw it, sitting on the dusted and polished table.  In fact, the entire room had been made to look like new.   

 

“I cleaned it up while you were showering,” he heard a familiar growl.  He found Castiel sat on top of the bed in his spare pajamas.  He looked worried but Dean said nothing as he at the table and ate in silence.  He could feel Castiel’s eyes on him but he didn’t care. He heard the bed creak as the angel climbed off to take the seat next to him.

 

“Dean,” Castiel repeated.

 

“What?” Dean growled between bites.  He just wanted to eat - to fill himself with something other than the memories of Cassandra’s pained, sorrowful face.  Dean bit down hard, ignoring the painful clack of his teeth as he angrily devoured his dinner.

 

“The girl is well.  Audrey will let Sam stay the night,” his angel replied, his tone wary.  “He wanted to speak with them.  So, they will be safe.”  Dean snorted as he shoveled fries into his mouth.  He cleaned his plate and pushed it to the side, wiping his hands and face with several napkins.  He retreated to the bathroom, which was immaculately clean and sparkling as the rest of the suite, to brushed his teeth.  Dean caught Castiel looming behind him through the bathroom mirror.

 

“Dean,” Castiel parroted as Dean spat and rinsed his mouth.  Dean held Castiel’s gaze in the mirror for a moment before turning to face him.

 

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“What for?”

 

“For not...for not telling you about everything,” Castiel explained.   “I stayed away because I was afraid.”  

 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Dean returned.  Honestly, his disappointment in Castiel for staying away for so long had been thoroughly trumped by Cassandra’s bombshell. Heck, Sam have could keyed the Impala from bumper to fender and Dean would not have cared at this point.

 

“This thing between Cassie and me.   You shouldn’t have gotten dragged into it,”  Dean said as he padded past the angel and over to the bed which, he noted, was already turned down.  “You’re trying real hard to butter me up here, Cas.”  He plucked up a chocolate from his pillow and tossed it onto the nightstand.

 

“Would you like that?  It’s strange but I can go to the grocery and-”

 

“No, no!  I mean, you’re being, like, super-duper nice to me,” Dean explained as slid beneath the sheets, patting the empty spot beside him.  Castiel climbed in, nestling his stubbly chin into the crook of Dean’s neck.  They laid in silence, Dean taking in the warmth of his lover’s body beside him.

 

“Are you angry?” Castiel ventured.

 

“At what?  You?  No.”

 

“Then, Cassandra?”

 

“Actually, I was at first but now... It  doesn't make sense but I feel somewhat... proud.  Almost happy,” The words felt foreign on Dean’s tongue but they were genuine nonetheless.  Dean had a child.  He had a family.

 

Just then, Dean felt Castiel pulling away, looking down at him with mournful blue eyes.

 

“She gave you something I can’t,” he sighed  “I’m sorry.”  Dean cursed himself for not realizing he had said all of that out loud.

 

“If you think that’s what I want from you, you’re a dumbass.”  He reached up and tugged Castiel back down beside him.  “Something is bothering me, besides from my secret love child being possessed by Big Mike.”

 

“What?”

 

“Did I - Do I actually love Cassandra?  You said cupids make people go weak in the knees to keep Heaven’s favorite meatsuits in supply...”

 

“Tell me, Dean,” Castiel asked. “How did you feel when you saw her today after all these years?”  He felt Castiel slip his hand under his shirt, fingertips gently stroking…..kissed the path along his throat, gently nipping at his chin and lips.  Whether it was jealousy or comfort or both - Dean enjoyed his angel’s amorous efforts.  It has been way too long. He eagerly arched into every last one of Castiel’s kisses.

 

“Like it was 10 years ago,” he uttered between moans.   “Like we were still young and I told her I wanted to stay with her forever...”

 

“Then, it’s real,” the angel paused, beaming down at him.  “Besides, the world was supposed to end with you.  No further vessels were required.”  Dean blinked.

 

“And you’re ok?  With all of this, Cas?” he asked once again.

 

“So you still love her,” Castiel replied.  “But you also love me.  It’s fine.”  Dean raised a brow in surprise.  

 

“You’re giving me a 'hall pass'?”

 

“No, I’m expanding our ever dwindling family,” Castiel returned, fingers tugging on the waistband of Dean’s boxers.  “I missed you, Dean.  Can we just have sex now?”  Dean laughed and rolled Castiel over onto his back, fingertips tracing the planes of his ribs, as he straddled Castiel’s slim hips.  He placed a firm kiss on the angel’s lips, relishing their roughness.  

 

“Sure,” he said, between kisses.  “We can do whatever you like.”

~~~

 

The next morning, Cas and Dean found themselves sitting in the Impala, watching as Audrey waited for the school bus with Tamsin.  When the bus pulled up to the curb, the girl gave her grandmother a quick hug before she scrambled  aboard, her backpack jumping wildly as she ran to her seat.  

 

“Will you go in now?” Castiel asked from the passenger’s seat.  Dean grimaced, sucked his teeth and sank lower in his seat.  

 

“I hear Benny is in town,” he said, picking at a loose thread on his shirt.  “Let’s go see him.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“We could grab a drink and a bite - some beer and bacon...”

 

“Dean,” Castiel repeated.  With a groan, Dean threw open his car door and climbed out.  He pulled his jacket collar high on his neck against the morning chill as he crossed the road towards the Robinson’s residence.  His stomach churned violently with every step as he passed through the gates to their front door.  With a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell.

 

“Oh, good morning,” Audrey greeted as she opened the door, her mouth formed a hard line.  Her guarded tone caused Dean to pause as she moved aside to let him in.

 

“Um, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday,” Dean said and his shoulders slumped.

 

“What’s done is done,” Audrey soothed.  “Come in.”  She led him into the living room, where Sam was sitting on the couch, reading a book.

 

“Dean!” he said, jumping to his feet.  “Are you ok?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said lamely, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I am sorry about how I acted but I really need to speak with Cassandra...more calmly this time.”

 

“Well,” Audrey replied. “Cassie is, um, in her home office.  Would you like to see her?”  Dean nodded.  With a wave of her hand, Audrey beckoned them to follow her as she made her way into a tiny, cluttered home office at the attached to the living room.  

 

But Cassandra was nowhere to be seen: There was nothing but a desk covered in mountain of papers and coffee mugs decorating every surface.  Audrey walked over to a wall by an empty water cooler.  She pushed on several panels and they slipped beneath the floor like a mystery mansion cliche.  

 

 _So cool!_  Sam mouthed to Dean, who just chuckled and rolled his eyes.  Just then, his cell phone rang.

 

“It’s Kevin,” Dean said, when he’d checked the caller ID.   Sam snatched it from his hands.

 

“He might have more news on the trials.  You deal with your baby mama drama and I’ll handle Kevin.  And stay cool, Dean.”  He watched his brother stalk off.  Audrey cleared her throat.

 

“Cassandra is down there,” she said, pointing into entrance.  “Behave yourself.”  Dean smiled weakly at her as he began to descend into the yawning darkness below.  

 

It was a sizable panic room, stocked to the brim with supernatural paraphernalia.  Dean admired the collection of blades, grouped by metals and religious blessings.  He walked through rows and rows of books, scrolls and various tomes ordered by myth and religion.  Dean saw a refrigerator nearby with a clipboard attached to it.  He glanced at it, and saw a list of various human and animal blood and their expiration dates.

 

She is not playing around, Dean thought to himself, thoroughly impressed.  His ears perked up at the sound of gently clinking and saw Cassandra sitting at workstation against the furthest wall.  Her hair was piled onto the top her head in a messy bun.  She was shoveling rock salt into empty shotgun shells with canvas gloves, tossing each one into a box at her feet.  Dean noted that she had several full boxes under the table and guessed she had been here all night.

 

“So, I haven’t seen you in a few years and you’ve become a Bond villain, huh?” he joked, breaking the silence and her rhythm.  Cassandra paused and turned to look at him over her slight shoulder.  She snorted and resumed her work.

 

“I’m a little more MI6 than SPECTRE, Dean,” she replied, the gentle clink of a full shell sounding as it joined the others.  “I have been busy.”

 

“Saving the world through journalism?”

 

“That and building a supernatural network,” Cassandra said. “You know Garth?”

 

“Sadly,” Dean returned.

 

“Well, I ran into him on a hunt of my own one day.  He’s goon but a smart dude.  You hunters are too isolated and the right, life-saving information isn’t getting to the people who need it.” Dean thought about Garth’s Winchester App and how it allowed hunters to track their every move.  How Garth had assumed Bobby’s role, making sure hunters had the information they needed to stay alive and get the job done.  “And with Bobby dead and all-”

 

“How do you know about Bobby?”

 

“You can’t talk to a single hunter without hearing about Bobby.  Come on, Dean,” she teased, throwing her final rocksalt shell into the box.  The stool creaked as she slid off, wiping her salt-covered hands on her apron.  Without looking at him, Cassandra brushed past him, aiming for a well-stocked wet bar, Dean padding softly behind her.   She plucked up a crystal glasses and easily poured three fingers of scotch in each.

 

“Johnny W-Walker Black?  Cuervo Gold? 151 Rum?,” Dean stuttered, trying to ease the tension.  “You hostin’ sorority mixers, Cassie?” he teased as she pushed a drink into his hands.  Their glasses met with a clink.   

 

“Tammy is all better,” Cassandra, ignoring his joke to focus on the glass in her hand.  She swished its contents absently.  “And Michael won’t be coming back.  Ever.  God, she cried about it all last night...”  Cassandra downed the remainder of her drink before helping herself to a second round.

 

“Take it easy,” Dean chided gently.  It wasn’t like Cassandra to drink so heavily.  He knew he had no room to judge with all the nights he abused his poor liver with cheap whiskey.  “It’s not even ten yet.”

 

“It it somewhere.  And I’ve been up all night trying to comfort my recently de-possessed daughter,” she sighed.  She tipped the half of her drink into Dean’s glass. They drank it all down - their bitter alcohol and their wounded pride.

 

“You know, at first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a mother,” Cassandra confessed, wiping her full lips on her sleeve.  “Believe me.  It seriously almost didn’t happen.”  Dean swallowed hard, his throat tight at her meaning.  He knew it was ultimately not his choice to make, that he had no right to a child he could not effectively care for.  His childhood had been shit: nights of salted window frames and cold spaghetti-o’s; all those times he saw the back of his father’s worn leather coat closing the door behind him, never knowing if it would the last time; all those times he woke to Sam sniffling from cold, from hunger, from fear in the middle of the night in the latest no-tell motel they called home.  To think that Tamsin and Cassandra might have been subjected to the same if he had stayed...

 

“After you’ve made contact with the supernatural,” she continued, pulling Dean from his reverie.  “You see them everywhere and in everything.  I couldn’t imagine living like that, much less raising a child...”  Cassandra poured herself another round.  Dean clenched his free hand to keep it from stopping her.

 

“But then,” she continued, the glass floating near her luscious mouth.  “I woke up one day decided for myself that my unfortunate reality shouldn’t keep me from being happy.  I wanted a family.  I wanted a real life...”  When she pressed her glass against her lips,  Dean grabbed her slight wrist.  Cassandra started, scotch spilling from her glass and over their hands.   

 

“Cassie, I’m sorry,” he whispered.  Cassandra blinked owlishly at him and let him set her glass next to his.  “I don’t blame you for keeping this a secret from me.”  Dean closed his eyes for a moment as Lisa and Ben’s faces ghosted through his memory.   They were joined by images of his father, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Castiel and many, many others.  Dean felt warmth and the scent of rock salt and metal envelope him.  When he opened his eyes again, he found Cassandra’s arms wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed against his.  He returned the favor, looping his arms around her waist.

 

“Dean, I’m sorry too,” Cassandra whispered into his ear.  

 

“For what?  People I care about get hurt or killed.  I’m tired of seeing my friends and family bloodied and buried...” Dean replied.  

 

“But that’s not your fault, Dean,” Cassandra soothed, her embrace tightening, holding him together as if he would fall apart from despair.  “You were born into this.  What else can we all do but keep fighting?”

 

“There is something,” he said, and pulled out of their embrace to look into her hopeful eyes. “Sam and I are going to close the Gates of Hell.”

 

 

 

 

 

_“I wish I could have seen [Mary’s] diary... Maybe it would help me remember her... Maybe that’s the point of a diary.  Keep your stories, your life, from dying.  So that other people don’t forget.”_

_\- J. Winchester, 1/1/84_

 

Tamsin took great care to step over the loose floorboard as she made her way over to the staircase, leaning over the banister to catch any bit of the raucous conversation happening below.  It wasn’t fair.  As soon as she got home, Mom and Grammy Audrey made her stay upstairs in her room.  Tamsin did her homework, ate the gross tofu nuggets Mom made, took a bath and went to bed an entire hour early.  And then, Mom invited over her most favorite people like Uncle Benny and Auntie Kate and Castiel and...

 

“So, are we all here now?” a gruff voice emanated from the den.  Tamsin’s fingers gripped the banister tightly.  She knew that voice.  It was Dean.  Her father.

 

It’s not like Tamsin had absolutely no idea who he was.  She had seen him in Mom’s old photo albums.  Mom always referred to him as an ‘old friend’ but Tamsin couldn’t help but notice how Mom’s finger strayed on the pages with photos of them together.  

 

And not having a father never really bothered Tamsin much.  There were a lot kids in her class that had one parent, or two moms, or two dads.  She knew families came in all sorts of shapes and sizes.  She knew she was loved no matter what.

 

It was only when she met Michael that her desire to know her father had grown.  And Michael had been more than happy to tell her all about him.  Apparently, Dean Winchester was a hunter like Uncle Garth, had a really tall little brother named Samuel, and got on Auntie Missouri’s last nerve.  He drank too much beer and ate too many bacon cheeseburgers.  He wore his father’s (her grandfather’s) old leather jacket until it was in tatters.  He was Uncle Benny’s best friend and let Auntie Kate go when her werewolf got the best of her.  And he loved to drive around in a black Chevy Impala (Whatever that was.).

 

“Kevin says we need to return an innocent soul unto Heaven from Hell,” her father said, bringing her out of her thoughts.  “This is what we need to do to complete the Second Trial.”

 

“‘Unto’?” Auntie Kate asked.  “Who says ‘unto’?"

 

“God does,” Castiel replied in a usually gravelly tone.  He sounded grumpy.  Tamsin had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

 

“Can we get back to the plan?” her mother asked.  Tamsin imagined her crossing her arms over her chest.  She did that when people were being silly.

 

“Yes,” Dean continued.  “Clearly, we can’t walk into Hell or risk opening Hells’ gate on here on Earth without hordes of them coming through like before.”

 

“So, what we gon do?” Uncle Benny inquired in his thick Southern drawl.

 

“Well, I think we should capture a demon and, um, ‘ask him’ what he knows,” she heard her Uncle Sam say.  Tamsin thought he was nice.  Too tall but a pretty nice man.  He played Candy Land with her before school the morning after Mom and Dean had that big fight.  “If anyone knows how to get into Hell, it’ll be one of them.”

 

“So, how are we gon’ do that?” Benny asked.

 

“A crossroads demon,” she heard Castiel and her mom say in unison.  

 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Sam agreed.  “We could summon it on a Devil’s Trap and then move it to a disclosed location and, uh, ask it what we need to know...”

 

Then they all started talking at once.  As Tamsin struggled to hear what they were saying, she noticed the footfalls coming up the stairs and a pair of green eyes came into view.

 

“Um, Sam is using the downstairs restroom,” Dean explained, a lopsided smile on his face.  “It’s late... Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

 

“Are you going to help Michael?” she shot back, ignoring his question.  That’s all Tamsin wanted to know.  She just wanted Michael and Adam to be safe.  “You’re going to save Adam?”

 

“Yes,” Dean replied quietly, coming around the banister.

 

“For real?”

 

“For real.”  Tamsin looked Dean straight in the eye.  He seemed sincere enough but with grown ups, she could never really know.  She would just have to trust him as Michael said. Tamsin turned her back on him and walked back to her door.  Her hand paused on the knob before opening it.

 

“Don’t die, ok?” she said softly.  “Mom would be upset.  Uncle Castiel would miss you too.  Adam will keep getting sicker...”

 

“I-I’ll do m-my best,” he stammered, scratching his stubbly chin.  "Hey, wait! W-what's the 'D' stand for in your middle name?"

 

"Deanna," she replied with a smile.  And then, she stepped through the door and closed it behind her.

~~~

 

Castiel, Sam and Dean found the reaper leaning against a yellow cab, eating between bites of a hot dog piled high with sauerkraut and ketchup.   His stopped when he noticed them approaching.

 

“Ajay, I need to talk to you for a sec,” Dean said as they slowed in front of him.

 

“We want you to help all three of us cross over into Hell,” Sam said curtly.  “We’re not taking no for an answer.”

 

“No one wants to go Hell,” Ajay chuckled, finishing off his hot dog in several large bites and  wiped his hands on his pants.  “But for you guys, anything.”

 

“You sound like you know us,” Dean said cautiously.

 

“You’re the Winchesters...and company,” he added, inclining his head toward Castiel narrowed his eyes in return.  “I’ll help you get in but then you’ll owe me one itsy-bitsy favor in the future.”

 

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Dean groaned to himself.  They followed the reaper to a nearby brick wall covered in graffiti.

 

“You have twenty-four hours and then I fish you out, soul or no soul,” Ajay explained, holding out his hands toward Sam and Dean.  “Come on.  Take my hands and let’s get you idiots into Hell.”

 

“And it gets creepier,” Sam muttered, taking Ajay’s and Dean’s hand into his own.  Dean waggled his brows at Castiel as he ran middle finger across his palm.  The angel threw him a scandalized look.  Suddenly, the wall began to shake.  It glowed brightly as the bricks moved aside to reveal a path into Purgatory.

~~~

 

_Earlier_

 

_Cassandra, Kate and Benny watched as the portal re-sealed itself becoming a normal brick wall again._

_“Ok, they are in,” Kate whispered over her shoulder to the others._

_“Now what?” Benny asked, adjusting his glasses.  “We gotta an entire day to kill.”_

_“Now, we wait,” Cassandra said coolly.  They decided to camp out on the street in Benny’s camper, taking turns to watch the reaper from a 24-hour diner across the way from where Ajay had parked his cab.  Day melted into night; night gave way to day.  The three found themselves drinking their umpteenth cups of coffee as they choked down greasy eggs and overcooked bacon._

_“They’ve got two hours and fifteen minutes,” Kate managed around bites of her sausage.  Benny and Cassandra watched the alley over the rims of their coffee cups.  “Do you think they will make it out?”_

_“Dean gonna get done what needs to get done,” Benny said reassuringly.  “Ain’t no demons gonna keep him from a rescue.”_

_“Who is that guy?” Cassandra asked suddenly, pointing to a strange passenger sitting in the backseat.  “He wasn’t there before.”  Kate threw some money on the table as they rushed to investigate.  Quickly, they crossed the street, crouching low as they moved in for a closer look.  It was a strange, well-dressed man.  While they couldn’t hear what he was saying, his tone was unnervingly calm.  Suddenly, there was a cry, the reaper slumped over against the steering wheel and he man vanished as suddenly as he appeared._

_“W-what just happened?” Kate stammered._

_“I’ll go look,” Cassandra said, creeping up to the cab to peek into its window.  He was dead.  There was a gaping wound in the center of his chest.  Ajay was dead and that meant the boys would be trapped on the other side._

_“Well, what do we have here?” a voice said behind her.   Cassandra hand’s wrapped itself around the handle of Dean’s demon killing knife._

 

~~~

 

Their journey through Purgatory was a short one.  

 

“This is it,” Sam said, gesturing to a boulder nestled in the roots of a great oak tree overlooking a stream.  The entrance to Hell is behind this rock, if what Ajay said is true.”  Castiel tilted his head and the rock rolled over, revealing a black, gaping maw from which dark, howling wind began to emanate from it.  They climbed through without any hesitation.  

 

As soon as they were inside, Sam took off in search of an innocent soul while Dean and Castiel prepared to open the Gate.

 

“Dean,” Castiel said suddenly as Dean finished drawing the symbols.

 

“What is it, Cas?  Having second thoughts?” he asked.

 

“No, it’s not that,” the angel replied.  “I know you kissed Cassandra.”  Dean’s throat went dry.  His jaw worked furiously to find the words that he so badly wanted to say.

 

“I just want you to know that I understand and I am ok with it,” Castiel continued, his tone flat and indifferent.

 

“O-ok with what?” Dean stammered.  

 

“I am ok with the fact that you still love Cassandra Robinson,” Castiel said matter-of-factly.

 

“Why are you telling me this now, Cas?” Dean asked exasperatedly. “We’re in the middle of Hell trying to save my brother, not my love life!”

 

“Because it’s somewhat relevant.  Family is important, Dean.  And our weird makeshift family could do with a few new additions.  It was quite common in the old days for a man to have multiple spouses in order to keep and to protect large family line-”

 

“Yikes! Ok! Enough!” Dean shouted.  “L-Let’s just Adam out and we can talk about your weird Sisters’ Wives fetish later!”  Castiel shrugged and pulled the Horsemen’s rings from his pocket.  They clumped together with a pleasant clink.  Castiel passed them off to Dean.  He spoke the words and tossed them onto the ground.  They waited.

 

After a moment, the ground quaked and split open.  A rush of air blasted past them through the gaping, fathomless chasm.  

 

“Is he coming?!” Dean shouted over the roaring wind.

 

“Yes!” Castiel replied.  “I can feel them!  They are both coming!”

 

A small dot of white light came into view.  It began to grow rapidly, gaining speed and size as it fly upward.  Light shot out of the chasm, filling the corridor.   

 

“Quickly!” Michael cried, his grace pushing Adam’s pliant form into Dean’s arms. “Now move away! Close the gate!”  It was a moment but in that moment Dean saw the one of the archangel’s faces.  It was the face of a child betrayed and abandoned.  “Take him and go!  Lucifer is coming!”

 

“I am going to regret this,” Dean groused, passing Adam off to Castiel.  “Hey, Mike! Climb in!”  The archangel blinked as Dean reached his hand out and grasped at the blinding light.

 

It was a rush.  Nothing like Dean had ever felt.  Michael’s grace overwhelmed and heightened his senses.  He could feel everything, every being, every soul that inhabited the four realms.  

 

Father, a voice rumbled in his mind. Father, this is even better than what I could imagine.  I feel so powerful!  I feel I could truly do anything in this vessel you have made for me!

 

Dean’s consciousness felt heavy, like a great weight was bearing down him, pushing down, down, down until he was gone.  He shoved back.

 

 _Don’t do this!_ he shouted at Michael. _You made me a promise!  You said you would keep your word!  What about rescuing Adam?!  What about Tamsin?!_

Then, it stopped.  Dean began to fill his mind and body again.  

 

“Dean!  Dean!”

 

“Sorry...your bro was, uh, just making room for me,” Dean managed as Castiel helped him onto his feet.  “Let’s get out of here.  Where’s Sammy?”

 

“Here!” he heard his brother calling.  Sam raced up to them, clutching his arm.  It was glowing faintly. “We gotta go! Demons are moving in hot!”  Castiel slung Adam over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before taking off after the Winchesters.

 

“Got your soul, Sam?” Dean called over his shoulder as they raced back to the entrance to Purgatory.

 

“Yeah, and you’re not gonna believe who it is!” Sam smiled brightly, sweat pouring down his face as his legs pumped quickly through the bloody, screaming field corridors of Hell.  At the final stretch, Castiel rocketed forward, pulling the Winchesters through the portal and back into Purgatory.  With a wave of his hand, the rock rolled back into place, sealing the off the portal.

 

“Now,” Dean panted, slapping Sam on the back.  “We wait for Ajay.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s not happening, brother.”  They swung around and saw Benny standing before them.  He greeted them with a sheepish grin.

 

“Benny!” Sam balked.

 

“Shit, Ben! Why are you here?!” Dean shouted in surprise.  

 

“Long story that we ain’t got time for,” he grinned.  “Let’s go.”

~~~

 

_Cassandra, Kate and Benny grunted in pain as Crowley threw them across the length of the alley.  Their bodies met the brick wall with a bone jarring thud as they fell hard against the ground._

 

_“W-what are you?” Cassandra managed, her heart thumping loudly in her ears as she struggled to stand._

 

_“Who, me?” Crowley asked, feigning innocence.  “I am Crowley, King of Hell.  And you must be friends of the Winchesters.”  He clucked his tongue reprovingly.  “Don’t you know that’s the quickest way to end up dead in this business?”  With a dark smile, an angel blade slipped into his hand from the sleeve of his perfectly tailored suit._

 

_Kate roared and lunged at Crowley before he could act.  Her claws struck out at the demon’s side.  Crowley sidestepped her blow, spun quickly and caught her by the neck._

_“Damn you!” spat Kate, swiping at the demon’s face.  Crowley dodged and shoved his blade clean through her shoulder._

 

_“I love these things!  They cut through anything like a hot knife through butter,” he taunted, twisting the blade, causing Kate to roar in pain.  She gnashed her teeth at him, foam pooling in the corners of mouth.  “I pull this through to your hip and you’re done, bitch!”  Before Crowley could do so, he heard footsteps charging toward him from behind._

 

_The demon wrenched the blade from the werewolf and threw her aside before cutting Benny’s fist clean off.  The vampire snarled and with his other hand, grabbed Crowley’s, yanking him in close and sinking his fangs into his neck.   Kate, seeing her chance, surged up and slashed her claws down the demon's back._

 

_“My suit!” Crowley hollered, pushing Benny off of his as he rounded on the werewolf.  Kate grabbed his wrists as they tumbled forward to the ground.  “I’ll rip your bloody heart out!” Cassandra dove forward and drove her own blade into the demon’s shoulder.  The blade ripped outward, tearing through the muscle and bone._

 

_Crowley wailed, lightning shooting through him._

 

_“The demon knife?!” he hissed. “W-where did you?”  As Cassandra ignored Crowley as she lunged for the killing blow.  “Enough!”  Crowley threw his hands open, sending them flying in every direction.  Cassandra crashed into a collection of garbage cans, the knife clattering across the alley floor._

 

_"You arseholes!” Crowley spat.  “This was my favorite suit... THIS WAS MY FAVORITE FUCKING MEATSUIT!”  He picked up his angel blade, and dusted what remained of his clothing off as he stood._

 

_Cassandra groaned.  Benny had landed on the cab, and shattered its windshield.  Kate legs dangled over the side of the chainmail fence. Her fingers brushed against its hilt of the angel blade and just as she took it up, she felt a cold pain pierce her gut.  Blood soaked through her her shirt.  Looking up, she saw Crowley smiling down at her, his hand extended._

 

_“Still can throw a knife with the best of them,” he crowed.  Crowley walked slowly over to her.  He took the hilt into his hand and twisted it cruelly as he had done to Kate.  He smirked as he ripped the blade from Cassandra’s side.  Blood ran over her trembling hands as she pressed them against her wound, trying to keep her guts from spilling out onto the alley floor._

 

_Crowley disappeared, and his laughter echoed off the walls of the alleyway._

 

_Cassandra fell flat against her back.  Everything was chaos around her.  She heard her friends stir in the distance.  Kate’s face came into view, as the young werewolf knelt over her.  Kate called her name, her mouth moving furiously.  Tears welled in Kate’s eyes splashed down onto her as the darkness began to wash over her._

 

_**Don’t cry** , Cassandra wanted to say, as Kate arms enveloped her.  But the words were dissipated with her last breath._

 

_~~~_

 

_“Shit,” Benny muttered, watching as the light faded from Cassandra’s eyes.   Kate’s cries filled the alley.  She howled, and Benny’s heart clenched.  She kissed Cassandra’s face all over, begging her to fight, to open her eyes as Cassandra’s hand slipped away and she fell still._

 

_“The reaper is d-dead and now...and now,” Kate dissolved into fitful sobbing as she held Cassandra’s cooling body against her own.  “We’re so screwed.  She’s dead and they’re stuck...”_

 

_“No, they got another way out,” Benny managed through his own tears._

 

_“H-how?”_

 

_“Through me,” he said solemnly.  Reaching into his flap of his jacket, Benny tossed a machete at her feet.  “Do it. Send me home.”_

 

_“B-Benny, no,” Kate sobbed.  “No... N-no more...”  She started to cry all over again at the thought of losing another friend._

 

_“You gotta, sweetheart.  Besides,” he smiled weakly, pressing Cassandra’s machete into her bloodied, trembling hands.  “‘Sides you and a few others, I wasn’t very happy here.  I guess I am nothing but a monster after all...”_

 

_Kate wiped the tears from her eyes._

 

_“You are anything but,” she whispered, pulling herself onto her feet.  “Bring them back safe.”  With an anguished snarl, Kate leapt forward and swung out and everything went black._

~~~

Nothing.

 

Cassandra Robinson found herself floating in an absolute void.

 

No heaven.

 

No hell.

 

No stars.

 

Just nothingness.

 

Cassandra Robinson never considered herself for sainthood but she never pictured herself swimming in lakes of fire either.  Sure, she took conditioner from hotels, maybe sped through a yellow light or two, and totally cheated her way through a game or two of Candy Land, but Cassandra knew she wasn’t evil.  

 

“You know what,” she said herself.  “I could be ok with this.”  She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drifting without a single care.  Suddenly, she felt warmth against her floating frame.  Cassandra opened her eyes and saw herself enveloped in a soft, iridescent light.   She shaded her eyes and looked up, and there she saw the archangel Michael his true form.  He had five faces, three of which she recognized as a lion, a bear and eagle.  He had six wings of immeasurable length.    

 

 

 

 

   

 

They simply stared at one another.

 

“I’m tired,” Michael spoke suddenly, voice lacking his usual thunder.  It was soothing, gentle, and oddly kind God’s fiercest warrior.

 

“I hear you,” Cassandra chimed as she idly stroked the Lion’s mane.  It was beyond soft and made her hand glow when she pulled it away.  “Maybe we can chill here for all eternity and not tell anyone.”  Her response was met with laughter. She laughed too.  They floated together for a while, the faint flap of Michael’s endless wings dotted their quiet peace.

 

“I am sorry I used Tamsin and hurt you,” the archangel said after all.  “I promised Adam that I would keep him safe but I couldn’t.  He wasn’t my true vessel and began to waste away...  I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

“It’s fine,” Cassandra said soothingly.  It felt odd to comfort a celestial being.  “Tamsin and Adam are safe.  By the way, where are we right now?”

 

“Between worlds,” the archangel said slowly, somewhat surprised by Cassandra’s forgiving nature.

 

“I figured,” she said, giving an experimental somersault.   “Then, I guess I am really dead.  My only regret would be not seeing Tammy grow up.  That _really_ sucks.”

 

“I am so sorry,” Michael said. “If my Father was here... I prayed every day and He did not come.  Now, I know He didn’t come because I failed him.  I failed to kill my brother.  I failed to usher in an era of peace for angels and humans alike.  I failed to keep Heaven from crumbling...  It’s no wonder He left-”

 

“You?” Cassandra asked, swimming over to look Michael in his many eyes.  “No offense but, God sounds like kind of a jerk.  He didn’t abandon you because you’re weren’t a good son, Michael.  From what my friend Missouri told me, it sounds like God just gave up and walked away.  That’s not what a good parent does.”  Cassandra tried to suppress a smile at Michael’s shocked looks.  His bear face’s slack-jawed was just too much, even for their grave circumstances.

 

“He wanted to leave the world to you to protect,” she continued.   “He wanted to give everyone peace.  But you know what?  Fuck it.  It’s His fault we’re all in this mess in the first place.  So, everyone has to keep going forward until this ride is over.  We have to continue to be here for each other, even if He’s not.”

 

“I think I understand why Father loves you all so much,” the archangel murmured.  “You’re incredibly resilient.”  Cassandra simply smiled in return.

 

“Hey, Mikey?” she asked.  “This is nice but are you planning on taking me somewhere?”

 

“Are you ready to go, Cassandra?  Your deeds have earned you a place in a peaceful hereafter...”

 

“Seriously?” she started, rolling over to look him into his many faces. “I made the cut off for Heaven?”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“Heaven sounds nice,” she muttered, her father’s sweet smiling face filling her mind.  “But, there is somewhere else I need to be.”

 

“And where is that?” the archangel asked, wings fluttering with curiosity as Cassandra folded her hands in her floating lap, her hair fanning out behind her like bird’s wings.  

 

“Home.”

~~~

 

It was easily the ugliest wallpaper Cassandra had ever seen.  A sickly army green slab dotted with mustard yellow and fruit-loop orange paisley pattern.  It looked like the contents of her garbage can once after a night of tequila shots and late night Taco Bell.

 

“Am I in Hell?” Cassandra asked the air. Her head throbbed painfully as she craned her neck to get a better view of her new surroundings.

 

Dean and Tamsin sleeping together on armchair.  Her little body draped across his massive frame like a throw blanket, snoring softly.  The bed creaked as she sat up.  Cassandra lifted up the side of her shirt and found that her wound was gone as if she had never never sliced her open.  She poked and prodded her side until she heard stirring.

 

“Mom?” Cassandra looked up and saw her daughter staring at her through sleep-ladened eyes.  “Mom!”  Tamsin knocked the wind out of Dean, rousing him from sleep, as she scrambled over and through her arms around Cassandra’s neck.

 

“I’m ok! I’m ok!” Cassandra soothed.  She held onto her daughter tightly as if Michael would return and snatch her away again.  There was a knock at the door and Dean, who they forgot was there, went to answer it.

 

“Cassie!” Kate rejoiced and bounded past Dean as soon as the door was open.  Audrey, Sam and Castiel filed in after her. “Jesus Christ, Cassie, we thought you were gone!”

 

“I-I’m ok,” Cassandra stammered as the gathered around her.  Her mother pushed her way to the forefront and placed several kisses on her daughter’s curly head.  She wiped her tears away, taking Cassandra’s hand in her own. “I was gone but then Tammy’s friend, Michael, saved me.  He says hello by the way...”  They all chattered away after that, bombarding Cassandra with millions of questions.  What was it like?  Did you see God?  Were you scared?  Did it hurt?  Did you miss us?  Cassandra regaled them about her brief life on the edge of eternity, keeping Michael’s sorrows to herself.

 

“Mommy is tired,” Audrey chided everyone softly as her daughter could no longer conceal her yawns.  “We should let her get her rest.  Your father can look after her.”  Dean blushed as she threw him a wink.  With a grin, Sam clapped his brother’s shoulders.

 

“Glad to see you’re ok, Cassie!” he shouted as Audrey shoved him through the doorway after the others.”

 

“We’ll see you two tomorrow, Cassandra.  Dean,” Castiel said, eyes smiling despite his gruffy tone.

 

Tamsin hugged her mom one last time.  She paused as she past Dean and then awkwardly threw herself around his legs.  He laughed and reached down, pulling her up into his arms.   It was as if time fell still; the perfect image of a father and his daughter instilled in her memory forever.

 

Thank you, Michael, she thought. You have no idea how long I have wanted to see this...  Dean released Tamsin, who took Castiel’s as the walked out and closed the door behind them.

 

Cassandra heard Dean moving about as she toweled her hair dry.  It felt good to get clean.  She slipped on the new nightshirt her mom left for her before making her way back into the bedroom.  

 

“Dying was pretty scary,” she confessed, sitting on the edge of the bed as Dean plopped himself back into the armchair.  “I don’t know how you guys keep doing it.”  

 

“It is the first time,” he replied with a wry smile.  “And then it’s like riding a bicycle after that...”

 

“Oh, God.  I hope not,” she returned.  “I really don’t want to have to do that again until... Well, you know...”

 

The bed’s springs groaned behind her as Dean unceremoniously plopped himself face down onto it.

 

“Naptime,” he moaned, rolling over to face Cassandra as she climbed in next to him.  

 

“Dean,” she said as he draped an arm over her side.  “Dean, what happened exactly while I was....dead?”  Slowly, he opened his eyes.  Cassandra had to held her breath to keep from flinching under the weight of his green eyes.

 

“Well, Crowley killed you and the reaper.  Benny killed himself to get us out of Purgatory.  We wound up somewhere in Maine.  When we got back, your mom and I went go have you cremated and your casket burst opened in this crazy white light.  You sat up, looked at us, told us you were hungry and then passed out again.  Then, we brought you make sure you were ok (we didn’t want to scare Tammy), while Castiel wiped everyone’s minds back at the funeral parlor.  Then, me and Tammy waited for you to wake up again.”  

Cassandra frowned.

 

“Is Adam ok?”

 

“Other than the fact that he never wants to speak to any of us again, he’s totally fine.  Sam helped him check out of the hospital this morning.  He should be on a bus heading to  heading to our friend Charlie right now.  She’s going to help him get a new life...”

 

“Oh, Dean...”

 

“I don’t blame him.  But, I don’t want to talk about Adam anymore.  I want to-”

 

“Talk about us?” she asked.  Dean nodded, resting his chin on the top of her head.

 

“We’ve got a bunker in Lebanon,” he continued.  “It’s completely hidden from the world in the middle of countryside.  I’m not saying you have to move out there but could I have weekends?  Teach our little punk to shoot cans and kick rocks?”  For whatever reason, an image of a beer swilling, flannel shirt wearing, permanent-five o’clock-shadow having Tamsin crossed her mind.   Cassandra laughed.  She laughed so hard that her whole body shook.  “W-what did I say?!” Dean balked, completely bewildered.

 

“N-nothing,” Cassandra managed, wiping away her tears.  “We could do weekends.  In fact, I’ll save you the trouble of a nine hour drive.  I think me and the fam will relocate to Kansas all together.”

 

"Do...do you want to move in with Sam and me?” Dean’s voice raised an octave at the implication.

 

“God, no,” she chuckled.  “Baby steps, Mr. Winchester.  Besides, I don’t think Castiel would appreciate that much.  It’s tempting but I’m not a homewrecker just yet...”

 

“Well, about that,” Dean began sheepishly.  “He said it’s cool.  Something about wanting a bigger family, blah, blah, blah.”

 

“You’re lying!” she shouted in surprise.  “An angel of the Lord did not just green light your three way sex fantasy!" 

 

“I’ll call him! I’ll call his feathery ass right no-!”  Then, Cassandra kissed him, just to stem the foolishness flowing from his lips.   

 

~~~

 

_Fall, 2018_

 

Castiel and Cassandra sat at their favorite cafe in outside of Lebanon.  It had a quaint, rustic aesthetic, complete with wagon wheels and rusted farming tools on the wall.  Cassandra stared out at the trees, a leafy sea of orange and gold as autumn made its way across Kansas.

 

“So, not much longer then,” Castiel said between sips of his coffee.  It was nothing like Biggerson’s but it would do.  

 

“Yep.  Everything’s on schedule.  You excited?” Cassandra replied, taking a bite of her scone.  She brushed the crumbs off her dress.  

There was a chirp.  

 

It was soft but clear.  

 

Cassandra looked down and saw a sparrow pecking at the crumbs around her feet.  He flitted happily between the tables, claiming anything his tiny beak could grab.  She smiled.  

 

 “Of course but not as fanatically as the other three,” Castiel smiled.

 

“Sam is really gun-ho about this.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally excited too, but he’s taking this entirely different level,” Cassandra chuckled, twisting the gold band on her ring finger.  Unconsciously, Castiel looked down at his own.  The engraving was worn but he could still make out the words.

 

“We ought to get back soon,” he said fishing a few bills from his trench coat pocket and placed them on the table before helping Cassandra to her feet.  Her hands rested on her swollen belly, feeling in the tiny kicks against her womb.

 

“Geez, John Martin,” she scolded playfully.  “Take it easy.”  She looped her arms around Castiel’s as they walked down the avenue towards the Impala.

 

“I can’t believe he lets you drive this thing,” Cassandra said as Castiel helped her into her seat.  She secured the seat belt across her expansive belly.

 

“Other than Sam, Dean trusts nothing else to keep us all safe,” Castiel replied as he climbed into the driver's seat.  The Impala roared to life and Castiel pulled off from the curb.

 

“So, have you thought of what we’re going to give Dean for his 40th?” Cassandra asked, watching the trees and the fields whip past her window.  

 

“Vinyls, guns, knives, a gift certificate to Brandon’s Bacon Burger Bonanza?” he listed absently.

 

“None of those things.  Especially, the burgers.  The doctor said one more burger and Dean’ll have to have a triple bypass.  His heart is already like 90% lard and hard liquor.” she said, lacing her fingers with Castiel’s free hand.  He smiled at her, his blue eyes glowing faintly in the soft light of an autumn afternoon.  “Because he’s our Dean after all...”

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cas/sie (Art)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/888775) by [dosymedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dosymedia/pseuds/dosymedia)




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